Rigor Mortis
by Radiant Pencil
Summary: This is a tale about Mortanius, the Guardian of Death. It is about his childhood, his assumption to the Guardianship and how he came to the decision that would shake Nosgoth to its foundations.
1. Prologue

Rigor Mortis

He wasn't very likable, the Necromancer decided, after watching the nobleman writhe in the shackles set before the roaring fires of the Abyss. No, Kain of Coorhagen was no valiant knight, no hero and certainly not a proper savior for Nosgoth. He wasn't even a decent human being but Mortanius was determined to make do with what he had. The man had bloody work ahead of him and perhaps it was best that he was less than scrupulous. Still, Mortanius couldn't help but hesitate, unseen behind the man in the white armor. He coldly examined how the man's own sword was pierced through his chest and how viciously Kain still thrashed against his restraints. The power of his fury was admirable, if Mortanius was one to admire such a thing. He had long since grown too cold to feel the heat of such things like hate and rage. Though the very deed he was about to commit was, in fact, revenge, it was a calculated and reserved thing meant to be done as cleanly and politely as possible. Such acts of passion were meant to be experienced by the very young for a brief period of frivolity before the rot of experience set in.

Mortanius glanced down at the black and still-beating heart that he had been absently clutching during his visit here. Yes, this was the trick. He wasn't even sure what would happen when he plunged the heart into the man, but the results would be interesting to watch anyway. Hopefully, the man would be turned into a very unique sort of vampire but there was no telling with this wicked art sometimes...

A smile spread slowly across his face, something that hadn't happened in years. He remembered that he hadn't always been so reckless with his power...there was a time when he had even feared it. How long ago that was! In fact, much of his young life had been spent in the concealment and restraint of his necromancy. So many events revolved around this fruitless pursuit...

While the flames of hell threatened to consume the chained nobleman, Mortanius lost himself in memories...


	2. Chapter 1: Stillborn

Rigor Mortis

Chapter One: Stillborn

When I was a mere boy, I learned that I was different than others. How exactly, I could not tell you, though it was showed to me again and again through the actions of those who lived with me in my family's home in Vassurbunde. The slight recoil from my mother when I touched her hand, the faintly nervous glances from the servants and tutors, and always the air from my father, as though God had slighted him in some way. Without knowing it, I became acutely aware of the movements and gestures from those around me. The slightest gesture would offend my delicate nerves and I was wont to retreat quickly from any situation that might prove emotionally hostile. Needless to say, this provoked even more the unfathomable sentiments from the others. It was a horrible but unspoken cycle.

What my family's name is, or rather was, I shall not say due to some lingering ties I still have to their memory and I think it would be the saintly thing to not mention my heritage. Be assured that we were wealthy beyond measure and we suffered from no dearth of any creature comfort. I had my own rooms, horses, wardrobe and entourage of servants. I was dressed in the best of garments and ate the best our peons offered to my father. Though I had plenty of toys, distractions and other amusements I could usually be found poring over the many books my father had in his library. I was content to spend a gloriously sunny day tucked in a window seat reading an immesurably ancient tome. Soon, I became erudite on many scholarly matters and thus became insufferable to my instructors. It seemed education had settled on me like dust rather than through any actual lessons. Eventually I was left completely to my own devices. What little was expected of me didn't disturb me in the slightest.

Still, despite all the strangeness surrounding me, I was a happy little boy. I reveled in the prose of fantastical Lord Elward and the witty language of the Gypsy philosopher Matando. I wrote my stories and crude cycles in an attempt to ape my favorite writers. Above all, I delved into the writings of the Masters, the ancient vampires whose works and deeds and customs were so curious and mystical and romantic to us whose flesh was determined to return to the soil. I became quite the scholar on the subject, though I had never seen one of the beings of which I dreamed fantastically. My parents were concerned, of course, that their only son was seemingly obsessed with such a macabre subject, but, as with all things, they let it be. And so I dreamt of the ancient lineage of Cerafor, Drakoni and Audron. At night, I walked with them in twilit aeries in ancient and unknown mountains; I visited the magnificent Pillars, which were said to protect our land from evil ones.

My days were spent peacefully, though not without its awkward or nervous moments. Underlying it all was that subcurrent of anxiety that threatened to consume me if I became any more aware of it. Visitors to the house were seldom and brief when they did come calling around. Even then, I was ushered into my room until they were gone. At this, I never questioned. Often I didn't even have to be told to go. The mere sound of the bell would send me dashing to my chambers.

I wonder how many knew I even existed...?

This continued for years and years, until I was fifteen. I was oblivious to the world outside, and was content to let it be so, but then a singular event was set in motion that put an end to everything I ever knew. My mother's mother, my grandmother Helmina, was coming to visit. I never had heard about her until it was brought up one night at supper. My father announced the event and I was told to be polite and out of the way until she was satisfied enough to leave. I, of course, was oddly disturbed by the fact that my mother had a mother and agreed compliantly. She arrived the next day.

To say that she was old was an understatement. She looked like the gods had decided not to wait and went and pickled her in advance. Her white hair was in an impossibly tight bun on her head and her eyes, though clouded with cataracts, seemed to see right into the middle of your skull. Her dress was dour and black and her boots clicked on the hard marble floors like she was a beast with hooves. She cast criticism wherever and to whomever she visited and she was the one who demonstrated all the many uses of curse words I didn't even know about. I was told in advance not to say anything rude because she was senile and couldn't be held accountable for any of it. She fascinated me endlessly. I was finally allowed to speak with her after three days of quiet, restrained mealtimes with her and my family, in which she stared at me vacantly but not without a certain repulsion.

"Hello, Grandmother," I said to her, nervously, as she sat before the fire in the reclining room.

She merely stared at me with the same unconcealed distaste and only in the disapproving stare of my father did I master the urge to run away.

"It's good to see that you are well!" I said, this time a little more loudly, in case she had not heard me.

"Who are you, boy?"she asked. I merely stood, flabbergasted at the sudden question but then I remembered about the senility so I smiled indulgently and replied.

"I'm Mortanius, Grandmother!"

She mumbled to herself for a bit and my father made some excuse to leave the room. I wished he had not left. She frightened me but I was determined to do this. Finally, I could not take the awkward mumbling and at the risk of being rude, I asked her to speak more clearly.

"Mortanius...? Yes, that was the name I asked Isabella not to choose. What a dreary, overbearing sort of a name. I suggested William, but she wouldn't have it. Hardheaded child...not really a surprise when she gave birth to it. Stillborn it was..."

"Grandmother, what are you talking about?" I asked frantically. Her odd talk was bizarre and my nerves were about to get the best of me.

"She was devastated, of course. I told her that God had a plan for everyone, and let go the ones that weren't a part of it. She was so angry...tried to refuse me entrance into the funeral. But Mother knows best, doesn't she? We all sat there, crying and sobbing and making a big scene over the pale little worm thing that had come out of her. When the good priest said the final rites, the pallbearers took up the tiny coffin but then we heard a noise like that which would come out of hell...the unholy wailing and screeching that came from the casket! They were so scared that they dropped it! Isabella ran to it and ripped it open, exclaiming that her baby wasn't dead! But he had come out that way! For three days he had lain like a dead thing while we sent for the priest for the funeral but Father Patsy was away in Ziegsturl that day..."

She rambled on for a bit, while I stood there, frozen in place by her gruesome story. Of course it wasn't true...but it was eerie none the less. I desperately tried to think of an excuse to get away when she suddenly grabbed my wrist with cold bony talons.

"Mortanius, you say? So your heart beats now, eh?" she said, and then suddenly began to scream. "What manner of devilry brought you back from death? Cursed child! Deny the conqueror worm? Get away, you foul thing! Get away! Get away!"

I tried to calm her but it was in vain. She let out a long screech when I touched her shoulder and she fell out of the chair in which she had been sitting. I went to help her up, though bewildered as I was, but her breathing grew raspy and phlegmy. Her white eyes bugged out sightlessly and her mouth hung open like a wet chasm of pink. Finally, she let out a ragged wheeze and slumped to the floor.

The sound of the door banging behind me startled me out of my shock. My father rushed into the room and knelt by her side, felt her wrist and glared at me.

"What have you done?" he demanded.

"What?"

I was then struck for the first time in my life. He repeated the question and I did my best to explain. He merely grew more enraged and sent me to my room, where I remained, shocked and trembling until the day of the funeral for Grandmother Helmina.


	3. Chapter 2: The Wake

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Two: The Wake

I stood outside, in the foyer of the church, waiting for my parents to emerge from the chapel. Besides the good priest Patsy, my parents and I were the only ones to attend Grandmother's wake. I had not wanted to go, but I could not refuse my father after the horrible act I had committed ...somehow. It was once again an unspoken but undeniable belief, that I had caused her to die. I was surprised when they had wanted to take me to the wake; surprised that they could recover from their repulsion to take me anywhere. Still, I was expected to be quiet through the whole affair. I desperately wanted to ask my mother about the ludicrous and terrible things of which my grandmother had spoken but it seemed she was constantly on the verge of tears. If I caused her to break down in some way, I knew my father would be even more furious with me.

Finally, the oaken door opened and out came my parents, looking baleful as ever. I rose to leave with them when my father shook his head.

"Don't you want to say goodbye to her?" he asked angrily.

Honestly, I didn't. The thought of being alone with an unburied corpse frightened me. I didn't say anything, however. I just nodded and dragged my feet along until I was in the chapel. There lay the casket, white and gleaming in front of the altar. For a chapel, it was rather small and even standing by the doors, I felt I was too close to the body. Nervously I gulped and cautiously stepped closer. It was my overactive imagination, I knew, but I still could not dismiss the faint smell of rot surrounding the coffin like a pall, despite the braziers of incense burning to either side. I held my breath and peered inside.

Why, it merely looked as though she were sleeping! I nearly laughed at how scared I had been.

In fact, she seemed more at peace, without the constant pain of old age to trouble her. Her face was placid and her eyelids hid her cloudy cruel eyes. Her bony hands were crossed over her chest and she seemed to be reposing nicely. I wiped my brow, now more at ease and tried to compose a proper goodbye for my grandmother.

"Well, Grandmother, here we are..." I began. "I never really knew you but I'm sorry you had to go like this...I didn't mean to frighten you. Mother is very upset so I guess that means she loved you very much. Father is mad at me, but I suspect he is also glad because now he doesn't have to tiptoe around you on certain subjects." Then I gasped. What a horrible thing for me to say!

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean that!" I said quickly. "It's just that...well...you were kind of scary. Always cursing and pointing and shouting. I don't think you were that senile...you probably played it up!" I realized that I had grown angry and I quieted my voice.

"You hated me and I don't know why. Your story was a cruel thing to tell me, you know, and Father thinks I frightened you to your death. I didn't! You were just really really old! That's all! Just old! I hate him! And I hate you!"

I was trembling with frustration and emotion, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I gulped them back and shook my head. Why was I so angry? Why was I behaving like this? There really was something wrong with me...

"I'm sorry all this had to happen...rest in peace..." I finally muttered. In a brave gesture, I bent and patted her cold stiff hand. I was thinking about how strange it must be to get old. How strange and how lonely...I didn't want to die like she had.

I then heard a slight sound, like wind whistling through a tiny crack in a window. I looked around for the source of the draft, but all the windows were tightly sealed. I decided to dismiss it and I went to leave the chapel...when I heard a low agonized moan. Quickly, I turned to face the casket and looked inside only to see milky white eyes staring up at me. I screamed and ran from the room

"Mother! Father! Something is wrong with Grandmother!" I screamed at them. Furiously, my father stood up and shook me. My mother wailed loudly into a fresh batch of tears.

"What are you doing?" Father yelled into my face. "Don't you see that we are distraught enough as it is? We don't need any of your macabre fantasy to make this more gruesome than it is!"

"B...but I heard her breathe and then she moaned and her eyes...her eyes were open!" I replied. At this, Mother swooned and Father went to fetch water for her, while I stared on dumbly. Lying on the pew, she motioned for me to come closer. I obliged, fearing that I might have been the cause of her condition.

"My son, it is a phenomenon of nature that you saw. It is called by the monks and scholars 'rigor mortis'. Excess gas escapes the cadaver and makes it seem like they had one last breath to give. Sometimes the muscles contract when they start to decompose and the eyes open. It is scary, indeed, but it is natural." she explained.

"Is that what's wrong with me?" I asked, suddenly understanding.

"What?"

"You couldn't bury me because of rigor mortis. I'm not really alive, I just look like it. Is that what's wrong with me?"

"Tanius, what are you going on about?" she asked, horrified and using her pet name for me.

"Grandmother told me. I was stillborn."

She sat up so suddenly that I nearly fell. She hissed and seemed to stare into the wall behind me. "Don't you listen to anything that old witch had to say! It's lies, all of it! Patsy doesn't know anything either! He's always in his cups, a fine way for a priest to be!"

I heard my father approaching from behind me. He asked her to be calm and to lie back down. She did, and drank of the cup he handed her. Then he turned to me.

"First you scare your grandmother into her death and then you nearly do the same to your mother. What is wrong with you?" he shouted.

"Don't yell at him so!" my mother hissed. "Go and check on Mother, would you? Tanius merely was frightened by the rigor mortis." Grumbling, he stormed into the chapel.

My mother and I were silent. She was trying to catch her breath and I was trying not to tremble so much. I nearly jumped when she began to tentatively play with my hair. It was the first time she had touched me in years. The sensation was strange, but not unwelcome.

"I love you Mortanius." she nearly sobbed. Worried, I turned to face her. She was crying again but she was smiling too.

"I love you too Mother..." I muttered. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I know this has been taxing for all of us. We'll go home soon."

We sat like that, like everything was normal, but I knew it wasn't. That undercurrent that had permeated my entire life threatened to break and drive me mad...and that's when we heard the scream.

It came high and shrill, like a girl's, from the chapel and it undulated into a series of senseless moans.

I wanted to run and hide but my mother's fainted form told me that I had to go and check on it. I crept to the door and pressed my ear against it. I heard rustling and a wet squelching sound. What was my father doing? Shaking, I opened the door...

What I saw will forever me etched in my memory. My father, bloody and gasping, lay huddled in a corner of the chapel while the body of my grandmother stood over him, slavering and moaning, holding her prize. I noticed that a large bit of his cheek was gone and she was devouring it greedily. My father screamed again and she bent down, sinking her teeth into his face. That was when she noticed me...her dead eyes burned with a stygian furor and quicker than I could believe, she leapt at me. I turned and ran, slamming the door behind me. I could barely hold it shut as she pounded and clawed at it, trying to get at me. And always that horrible moaning! I saw that Mother was still unconscious...and I saw that the door was beginning to splinter.

"Stop it! Please Grandmother, just stop it! It's just rigor mortis! Just go back to being dead!"

And she did...at the sound of my voice, I heard her slump against the door. I never even checked to see if my father was still alive...I never checked on my mother...I only ran as fast as I could from that place.


	4. Chapter 3: The Angel and Devil

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Three: The Angel and the Devil Came Calling

Mindlessly and aimlessly, I wandered the streets of Vassurbunde. The fear and the shock of what had happened made my surroundings meaningless and before I knew it, I was lost. When I finally realized this, the day was fast coming to a close and the sun had sunk below the dark horizon of crooked roofs. Deep shadows were cast on everything and what would have seemed innocent and harmless in the full light of day now seemed half-real and menacing. Merchants began to pack up their dubious wares and imp faced children trailed behind gargoyled parents. Everywhere there were people! I was pressed on all sides by a heaving velvety mass that was called a crowd. I had never seen so many people in my whole life! The smell of old fish, rotten waste and beasts permeated the air and I began to feel lightheaded. Shoving my way through an agitated group of pallid fruit vendors, I sat on a moldering bench outside what seemed to be a pub. Clutching my head in my hands, I tried to breathe normally but it wouldn't happen...what was I going to do? I had abandoned my mother! I had left my father to die! And my Grandmother...I didn't even want to remember the way she moved, the moans she had made. Those eyes...

On that bench, I remained until there was no light at all in the sky. Hardly anyone walked the streets now and every door was shut up tightly. Alone in the filthy avenue of lost humanity, I realized I had no choice. I could never return home. Even if my mother were to take me back, I would only tax her nerves and serve as a constant reminder of the incident in the church. It would be better if I removed myself now. Where I would go never occurred to me. I was not suited to a life outside the walls of my father, a life with the common toilers of the town. Even if I was willing, I didn't possess the necessary skills and street smarts to survive. I would do the merciful and honorable thing...who was I to defy the conqueror worm? At this thought, I felt no fear or repulsion. It seemed purely logical. It wasn't suicide exactly. It was more of a relocation...a permanent removal of my person.

Quietly emboldened with a sombre cause, I set off to find the most private place and the most polite way to carry out my task. Gruesome methods ran through my head as casually as a shopper mulling over what to buy. Later I would look back and wonder why bandits had not tried to assault me as I wandered through the rough cobblestoned alleys. Perhaps it was because I already had the look of a dead man...I was never sure. Regardless, I remained unaccosted.

I am not sure how much time passed until I heard the sharp sound of horse hooves behind me. I wasn't concerned in the least. If they were highwaymen, then they would just do the job for me.

"Master Mortanius?" I heard the rider query. I didn't want to turn around, because I knew it was one of my father's servants. I recognized the unctuous tone at once. I continued to walk away but he nudged his horse and soon was blocking my path.

"Get out of my way, please," I said as jovially as I could.

"I was sent by your mother, Lady Isabella, to escort you back home," he replied, "There are serious matters about which she needs to speak to you at once."

"I'm not going home,"

"But Master Mortanius, what will I tell your visitors who came all the way from Uschtenheim to see you?"

"Uschtenheim?" I asked. That town was clear on the opposite side of Nosgoth! And it was home to the Ancients! Now this changed things!

"Do you know what they want?" I demanded.

"No, young master, but I do know it's urgent."

Without a second thought of my 'removal', I climbed into the saddle and rode home.

What had been a home and a sanctuary to me for fifteen years, now seemed imposing and colossal as the rider and I approached my father's manor. Silently we rode up to the massive front porch and the servant let me down while he went away to attend to the horse in the stables. I climbed the steps and stood in front of the doors, holding my breath. What kind of homecoming awaited me inside? Was Mother angry? Was Father alright? Of all the many windows that faced this side of the house, only the receiving room was lit. Why had people from Ushtenheim come to see me?

Before I could steel my nerves, the door flung open and my mother's arms were around me in a constrictor's embrace. I was stunned. As I have said, she usually made every effort to avoid touching me. The unexpected contact was strange. She was crying, I could tell, and was saying my name over and over again. In a moment, I felt a crushing remorse weigh upon me. So eagerly was I about to cast myself to oblivion! And for what? To spare my mother? From what? I knew that it was cowardice that had compelled me and I was shamed. She was not angry with me, she assured me, and Father was fine. She was merely glad that I was home where it was safe. I didn't dare ask what happened in the church after my departure. There was time enough for that. She ushered me inside and told me that I had visitors.

"What do they want, Mother?" I asked as she fussed over my hair.

"I don't know..." she admitted, "And they wish to speak to you privately..."

"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me," I said, with a pat of her hand and went to enter the receiving room.

"Mortanius?" my mother's voice made me turn.

"Yes?"

"No matter what they tell you, your father and I love you. Remember that." I nodded and opened the door.

One of my visitors was seated before the fireplace in my father's favorite wing chair. There was no fire and only one candle served to lite the room. Deep shadows hid his face but I could tell by his garb that he was some sort of nobleman, all dressed in fine trousers and a long red vestibule. The other was more in plain sight and indeed the sight of him made my heart quail in both fear and admiration for standing before me was one of the Ancients about which I had read and studied and dreamed so much. He stood with his hands behind his back, and a solemn expression on his face. And his face! It was both at once a predator's and an angel's, with sad golden eyes and a high noble brow. His black hair was combed back, with hints of silver around the temples. His skin was the lightest blue and he wore a venerable robe of white that was open at the chest, showing a powerful build. His wings, of richest black, were folded neatly behind him. When he beheld me with that gaze, I found I could not move or think, let alone give a proper introduction.

"Hello Mortanius," he said, after kindly acknowledging that I was in a stunned state. I could hear the dark accent of the mountains in his words and noticed how his glittering eyeteeth showed over his lips when he uttered the final sibilant. Still, I could say nothing.

"He's either about to faint away or compose a sonnet..." the one in the chair said idly.

"Vorador..." the august vampire said warningly. Finally I managed to find my tongue and I bowed deeply.

"You honor me with your presence. Is there anything I can do to make your visit more comfortable?" I asked. The vampire laughed pleasantly and shook his head.

"We've come a long way to find you, Mortanius. I am Janos Audron..." he began.

"Of the noble house of Audron? Then you are the Ward of the Key! The Keeper of the Reaver!" I exclaimed and immediately wished I hadn't. How rude of me to interrupt...but how could I not? Here was the hero of the long ago war between the vampire race and the great evil that threatened to swallow up all of Nosgoth.

"Yes..." he continued, a bit surprised. "My companion, Vorador, and I have come here to speak with you. I take it you are quite erudite in these matters so much of what I have to say will not be too new to you." He motioned for me to sit and he also took a seat.

"You know that centuries ago, we vampires threw away the Unspoken to the void between the voids. To create the gate to their prison, we made the Pillars of Nosgoth, which drew their power from the nine aspects which govern our land," he explained and I nodded eagerly, knowing almost verbatim the Unspoken Cycle and the Ballad of the Gate and Key.

"Nine Guardians were chosen to see after their respective Pillars, and the Soul Reaver was imbued with the six elements which govern our land to act as the key. But then, before the banishing rite could be complete, the Unspoken cast the dreadful curse upon us...rendering us weak to the lust of our brother human's blood and to the sun, water and fire...and no longer could we give birth to our children. Though we were given a sort of immortality, thanks to the anchoring of our souls to our bodies, we were rendered...sterile. Soon, we discovered that we could make more vampires...of a sort, by undergoing a ritual with a human, but this did not solve our dilemma!"

"What dilemma?" I asked. This was new to me, though I understood everything up to that point.

"The Pillars chose the Guardians from the moment of their birth. If vampires weren't being born, then no Guardian could be chosen!" he replied. I would have asked what happened to the immortal Guardians that were chosen when the Pillars were first created but I figured that would be in bad taste. They were obviously dead, somehow, so I held my tongue.

"We thought we were in danger. The Guardians sustain the Pillars. If we didn't do something soon, the Pillars would crumble and the Unspoken would be let loose upon Nosgoth. However, I came to a realization that the Pillars' magic was stronger than we had anticipated. The Pillars were choosing human Guardians! The Pillars were determined to do their job!" Janos said, laughing in relief, "And that is why we are here, Mortanius. You are one of these Guardians."

After a long, bewildered silence, I looked him in the eyes and found that he did not lie.

"Look inside yourself, Mortanius. You've always felt...different than others, haven't you?" Janos asked, leaning in confidentially. "Things have happened that you could not explain, no? You've known things and you could not explain how you knew them to begin with. You are special and you know it."

"That's the same with every person," I replied, "for in having a perspective we are blind to all others and assume ourselves as either greater or lesser than our brothers. We are locked behind our eyelids and are denied the ability to compare the experiences we all share, the ones called life."

"Matando...he's good, I have to admit," said the vampire who had been sitting, the one named Vorador. "Not many boys can interpret the gypsy philosopher." He stood and in the dim firelight, I saw his face for the first time. I could not suppress a gasp. While the face of his master was divine with a hint of the diabolical, his was outright devilish but not without a bit of the divine. His face was lean and cruel, like the face of a wolf, with eyes that burned with an eldritch power. His skin was a deep brown and while he had no hair, his ears were long and pointed like those of a beast.

"Thank you sir," I stammered. He nodded and thrust a small golden ornament at me. It was about the size of my fist and was shaped like a four pointed star. In the middle and on each of the points symbols had been etched. I didn't recognize them but as soon as I held the thing, I felt an indescribable and irrefutable connection to the presence of huge and powerful colossi that were more ancient than any could imagine. With alien intellect, they acknowledged me and I was welcome amongst them. I was with them as they worked their magic, slowly and imperceptibly, throughout existence itself. I felt it work through me, I felt it become me, and I felt how I became it...

And suddenly it was gone. I blinked my eyes to clear away the spell, and I saw that Vorador had taken away the strange little trinket.

"That's proof enough," he grinned. "We don't need any more of the looking-inside babbletalk,"

"I suppose not," sighed Janos.

"W...what was that? What were those things?" I asked frantically.

"That was the Emblem, a gift of the Pillars given to us to enhance the Soul Reaver and to help us find the Circle of Nine." Janos answered. "It is proof that you are indeed a Guardian."

"But what do I do now?" I demanded, "What does being a Guardian even consist of? What does it mean?"

"You will come with us back to the Citadel and learn the ways of sorcery and how to maintain the strength of the Pillars," Janos said quietly. Though he said it gently, I knew that there was no real option. I was going to go with them, but at the prospect of leaving everything I knew behind, I was not afraid. I was honored and excited to be of service to such a noble and good being such as Janos.

"We leave tonight." Vorador said sternly.

"Give me a bit to pack and I will be ready to go," I said. "And I must say goodbye to my mother...she will be so worried..."

"Take only what you can carry. We will provide you with all else." Janos said.

I balked a little at the idea that I wouldn't be able to take my book collection but then I decided that the rewards would be great indeed. I leapt up from my chair and proceeded to leave the room. When I opened the door, I found my mother in tears. She had overheard the entire conversation.

I tried to console her, I tried to hug her, but I was not privy to her embrace as before. She pushed me away fiercly.

"I should have known...I should have known...I am sorry, Mortanius..." she muttered again and again. After some time, I managed to calm her. I had her sit down in a chair in the lobby and I assured her that I would write every day and would visit as much as I could. I told her all the things I thought she wanted to hear and more.

"What happened to Father? You said he was fine," I asked, trying to get her mind on more immediate matters.

"Well...he is...and he isn't," she explained, "After...what happened in the church, I found him in the chapel. He had somehow taken out the body of...taken out the body and hurt himself...he was bleeding so much. We got him home and patched him all up...but I suppose the exertion must have been too much for him. He came under a strange fever and so I called the doctor...he's up with your father in his chamber seeing to his every need. Don't you worry about anything."

I decided right then and there that I didn't want to see him before I left. I knew it sounded ingrateful but my nerves were so taxed at the moment that I couldn't stand to be under his scrutinizing glare, delirious or not. I rose, went to my chambers, packed as hastily as I could and with a final farewell to my mother, I left Vassurbunde to assume the Guardianship.


	5. Chapter 4: Like a Serpent in the Den

Rigor Mortis

Author's note: If you haven't read Termina Redux, (which in fact makes you a bad person) you might want to go read it because it makes this chapter a bit easier to understand.

Chapter Four: Like a Serpent in the Den

To describe the journey from Vassurbunde to the Citadel, I will spare many of the details. It was long, uncomfortable, and wholly without event. Though he could have very easily flown, Janos chose to ride on a horse like Vorador and myself, even though his wings made it look awkward. Perhaps he was trying to be polite. On the way, I asked many questions whose answers only served to make me question more. I found out that Janos had taken it upon himself to locate the nine human Guardians who were scattered across Nosgoth, using the Emblem as a guide. With this artifact, he had found me first and we were on our way back to the Citadel, where the next Guardian waited to be discovered. While he was away, I was told, Janos had left his younger sister Jadwiga to attend to the matters of the Citadel and its surrounding lands. I was excited at the prospect of meeting another venerable Ancient and I couldn't ride fast enough.

As the weather grew more frigid and the winds blew more fiercely, I was told about Vorador, the master blacksmith who had made the Soul Reaver and who had been the first human to ever undergo the process of becoming a vampire. Looking at Janos' companion, I could hardly imagine how the ferocious-looking vampire had ever been a man. He seemed to stiffen when Janos told me of his tale, as if he were either embarrassed or wished to be reticent about his origins. I would soon find out the truth for myself one day.

Soon we entered the snowy fields that surrounded the lake and the Citadel. Winters in Vassurbunde had been blustery, to be sure, but I had never seen a climate like this. Snow was the only thing the eye could see and eventually the lack of contrast gave me a vicious headache. Still, in the midst of all the dazzling white, I could easily see the towering Citadel standing like a black giant in the distance. I was eager to see the amazing and beautiful architecture about which I had read so much. Was it true that the Ancients lit their hallways with crystals that shone with an inner light? And to think of the ornamented balustrades and archways and all the murals and frescoes that Janos himself, a master artist, had created.

I was alone on the boat ride across the lake, while Janos flew and Vorador, much to my delight and horror, transformed into a screeching swarm of bats. I understood how they would be nervous on a small boat such as the one I had to take. I wondered if this was how I was going to cross the lake every time I went to visit my family? Perhaps I would learn some kind of useful sorcery to aid me.

I was exhausted from rowing, being unaccustomed to such exertion, when I stepped through the archway into the marvelous vampire city. Vorador and Janos were there, waiting for me. I couldn't help but gawk like a newborn at the wonders that surrounded me. My dreams were pale figments rendered crude and childish compared to the majesty of the Citadel. While I was busy admiring the massive construct, I didn't even notice the sheer lack of people in the place. Finally, catching my breath and my wit, I turned to them. They were conversing nervously amongst themselves and in such a dialect that I could not understand. They seemed tense and frightened, emotions I never would have associated with powerful beings suchas them.

"What's wrong?" I asked, spooked by their whispers.

"I am not sure, " Janos answered, always being the more talkative of the two. "Usually the plaza is crowded with workers and merchants and the like. This isn't right."

"Should I go on ahead?" Vorador volunteered.

"No. We should go together. Perhaps Jadwiga knows something." Janos replied.

The stone paradise was eerily silent as our footsteps echoed through the derelict passages. Though we were confounded by the lack of people, we were horrified at the scene that welcomed us when we entered the tower. We found the body of a vampire lying prostrate on the spiraling stairs leading to the top floor. His limbs had been burned away by some acidic substance and only charred stumps remained. I knew that water had been the culprit, judging from the bucket lying empty nearby. A bloody carpenter's hammer lay near the poor wretch's head. Further investigation showed that the side used for taking out nails had instead been used to wrench out his fangs. They lay nearby the hammer, idly cast aside like worthless stones. We saw that his suffering had come to an end with the brutal piercing of his heart with a sword, but evidence showed that the murderer had spent some time allowing his victim to writhe before the final stroke. Who could have done this monstrous thing?

Before I could gather my senses, Janos and Vorador dashed up the stairs and though much stone separated us, I could still hear their admonished cries. I however, wasn't concerned, being occupied by a singular phenomenon. I could hear his voice! The voice of the murdered vampire called out to me in a wordless howl of agony. I had never heard such a cry before and it rooted me to my place, kneeling by the body. After a time, it began to articulate and I could hear words being formed.

"He came...he came back like he said he would...we thought he was dead but he had been hiding! Like a snake into the den, we didn't even know he was here until he struck! Woe to our generation, the blood addicts, for our time is short and the lamb now rises to slaughter the wolf!"

"I...it's alright. It's over now..." I managed to whisper. I could feel his pain, his sense of fear and loss, and it was devastating. My sight grew hazy and I saw the vampire try to stand, thrashing about with his maimed limbs.

"Stop! Please stop it!" I cried. Though I was terrified, I held his bleeding face in my hands and he grew peaceful.

"Make it stop hurting..." he begged. I nodded. I don't recollect what happened but I felt a rush of cool wind and I knew that he was gone. When I opened my eyes, I saw that he hadn't tried to get up or move about at all...ithad beena dream or a hallucination and he was still dead like before. Still, I felt a sense of emptiness, the emptiness that comes from serenity and I knew that whatever I had done, the vampire was hurting no more, either physically or spiritually.

Remembering where I was and what was going on, I ran up the stairs (God help me to forget how blood-slicked they were) and I saw the massacre that awaited. Vampires lay dead in various stages of dismemberment. Here lay one, sprawled out on an oaken table, with blood running down the fine table linen. There slouched another vampire against the wall, with his face still hissing at his attacker. Blood and viscera covered the cold stone floor and just as the spirit of the murdered vampire below had called out to me, the souls of all these people were wailing. There were so many voices that I could pick out only a few words here and there.

"Murderer!"

"...the wrath in his eyes..."

"He hid the damnable thing in the wall! I saw it!"

"Make it stop..."

"The glow...the unholy glow..."

I couldn't stand it anymore. I nearly faintedfrom the impotent rage and sorrow of these poor creatures and like a coward, I ran past them up the stairs, all the way to the top floor. There I found Janos and Vorador.

This room wasn't nearly as gruesome as the one below but I could already feel the massive devastation that had been wrought. It was what was considered an aerie, with nearly one third of the circular wall open to the sky. It was nearly empty except for seven huge stone chairs placed in a semicircle. Here, there was very little blood to be seen, except on the two bodies that lay next to each other, like lovers. One was an Ancient, a beautiful young girl draped in white and whose death-wounds were the only signs that she was not merely sleeping. Her face was peaceful and her soul did not cry out to me. Her hair was dark and lovely, spiraling down her head and her wings were as black as night.

That someone this beautiful had been murdered seemed a travesty.

The other, to my surprise, was clearly not dead, despite the endless wounds and lacerations covering him. He was a human, a young man dressed as any other commoner. He had unusually light blonde hair, almost white, though it was greasy with blood. His eyes were open and though dazed with bloodloss, were filled with almost a bemused disassociation. Those eyes...they were an icy blue and gave me the impression that though he was a young man, he had been so for a very long time. When he saw me looking at him, he smiled, showing bloody teeth. Janos had been saying something to him but he clearly wasn't paying attention. He closed his eyes and went limp. He was unconscious.

"W...what happened?" I asked finally.

"We have found the Guardian..." Janos murmured, crossing the arms of the Ancient over her chest. I could see that he had been weeping. Vorador seemed frozen in place, busy with a struggle to either comfort his master or tear open the throat of the man lying before him.

I could go on about the next few days, how the servants eventually came back from their hiding in various villages. Apparently, they had deserted the Citadel only a few days before the massacre by order of Jadwiga, the poor murdered Ancient. I could tell about the burying of the bodies and of the fruitless search for the invading army that had done this. I could tell about the endless scrubbing of the Citadel walls and I could even tell about how many different souls I put to rest. I would never tell, however, about the discovery of the underground trading of humans whose capital had been the Citadel while Janos was away...the faces of those damned to blood slavery...I'll never forget...how they had been left to starve in a hidden chamber underneath the tower. Though Jadwiga had been beautiful, she had been a kingpin in this atrocity. Her death set them free...

And soon, I met the man who had wrought all these things, the man who had completely convinced himself that this massacre was a necessary thing. The man who helped unlock my power and understand myself rather than loathe it. The man who would receive my greatest devotion and my endless hatred...the Timestreamer Moebius.


	6. Chapter 5: Homesickness

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Five: Homesickness

I was sitting in class, bored out of my skull. The instructor was droning on and on about the power of belief in runes and symbols and it didn't look like he was going to stop anytime soon. I glanced around me. Many rich and noble families had sent their children here in hopes that they would become learned sorcerers and bring honor back home. This was good, because it meant that I wasn't the only human wandering about the Citadel who wasn't a servant. Everyone was of a different age. Most were teenagers like myself, some were very young and some were in their middle age. It seemed that they were all paying rapt attention besides me...and of course, Moebius. He was scribbling on a piece of parchment, not even looking at what he was writing but instead cast his gaze out the window. If he could get away with it, then so could I., I decided. I began to compose a letter for my mother, telling her only the good things that had happened, leaving out everything about the massacre and my own involvement. I didn't want her to worry.

Though I wrote to her every day, I had yet to receive a response. I tried my best to keep up a stolid front, but inside I was nervous. Was she choosing not to reply or were the letters even getting to her? Every night, the same worries ate away at me, preventing me from good sleep. Still, I wrote...

'Dear Mother, life here in the Citadel is very exciting. We're always learning something new and I've made many new friends. (Which was an outright lie. Even my classmates, who had been ostracized at home because of their arcane talents, shunned me.) The instructors are very kind and I'm getting plenty to eat. I cannot wait to come visit you. How is Father? I am anxious to know how that fever of his is doing. I suppose you cannot write back as often as you would like if you are having to take care of him...' Suddenly, a loud slamming noise on my desk made me jump. The instructor had caught me.

"Mortanius! What is that you're writing? I hope it's ample and detailed notes, for your sake, young man!" the instructor suddenly yelled. Peering into my eyes, he was the most frightening thing I had ever faced. It didn't help that the instructor was a vampire, one of the best wizards in the Citadel. Even Janos relied on him!

"I...I'm sorry, sir..." I stammered.

He snatched up the piece of parchment and began to read its contents aloud in a wavering childlike voice. When he arrived to the part about my 'many new friends' the entire class laughed. I had never gone to a school before, and I had never felt the terror that is classroom humiliation. My face burned with shame as I tried to sink deeper into my chair.

"Ha ha! Miss your Mommy?" one boy jeered.

"Little Tanny needs to go home!" another giggled.

"Are you sure you're getting enough din-din in your tummy?" yet another asked and laughed crazily.

"You all are a bunch of asses, you know that?" another spoke.

There was silence in the classroom as everyone swiveled their heads to see who had said such an uncouth thing. Moebius, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk, was smiling vaguely at the class.

"Making fun of a chap who misses his home," he said in a conversational tone, as though he wasn't the source of admonishment, " As though none of you don't. I know some people who should write home more often. I know I should." That being said, he stood up and proceeded to walk out of the classroom.

"And just where do you think you're going?" the instructor demanded from his lectern.

"Haven't decided yet..." he replied dreamily.

"Just because you're a Guardian doesn't mean you have full run of this place," the instructor hissed, "This is MY classroom and you should know Master Audron WILL hear about this,"

"But not from you..." Moebius shrugged. He turned, smiled at me and left the classroom. The class was stunned into silence for nearly a minute until the instructor banged on the lectern for attention and continued his presentation as though there had been no interruption.

The end of that period couldn't come fast enough. I tried to keep my head down as we all entered the hallway, but still I was jostled by many others. Having an hour to spare between now and my next class, I headed to the library where I was certain to be alone. I supposed nothing had really changed in my coming to the Citadel. I was alone as before, the only difference was that I was surrounded by more people now. I was still considered bizarre, in a place where the bizarre thrived, and as always, I retreated from these difficult situations to the library. Before I could reach Sanctuary, however, a voice called out to me.

"Why don't you stand up for yourself, for once?" It was Moebius, who had crept up on me. He had shown me compassion once before, when the semester hadn't started yet. I had accidentally raised my beloved dog from the grave in Vassurbunde and was waiting for it to reach me so I could dispose of it before anyone could find out about it. To my surprise, he hadn't been afraid or repulsed by me at all. Instead, he had chosen to help me. He still made me terribly nervous, as I still remembered what those souls had said when I first came to the Citadel. Like a snake into the den...? Had he really been responsible for the massacre? How could a solitary man kill so many powerful vampires?

"I..." I tried, but gave up responding. How could he understand?

"What, you're afraid that they'll think you're even creepier?" he asked.

"I..." I tried again but he interrupted.

"I'm hungry. Let's go eat," and turned to head toward the kitchen. Though he did not drag me, I knew I had little choice in the matter.

"I don't think the cooks will give you anything. It's not even close to supper and they're really strict in giving hand-outs," I attempted to convince him.

"Could've fooled me," he replied as we continued down the hall.

To my amazement, the cooks all greeted him when we entered the kitchen. The smell of roasting meats and boiling vegetables assaulted my nose and I grew acutely aware that I actually was hungry. I watched in admiration as Moebius made idle banter with them as he deftly sampled their dishes. He asked about spices and certain cuts of meat and they were all happy to answer. I had a feeling that he really didn't care much about what he was even asking. Before I knew it, he had acquired for us a hunk of good bread, a bit of excellent cheese, and two cups of wine with the cooks' full blessing.. At the last item, I expressed my horror, for novices weren't supposed to drink wine. Moebius merely waved his hand and laughed.

"We're novices? According to whom?" he asked.

"The instructors and the other faculty! Especially the upper classmen!" I reminded him angrily.

"Then they won't be getting any," he said, and raised his cup to me. We had retreated to a secluded spot, a place where we were considered outside but the walls to the west and east protected us from the winds. The sun shone through a cloudy grey sky and though snow still blanketed most of the ground, it was obvious that spring was approaching. Under a great fir tree, we were quite comfortable.

Seeing how easily he drank, I cautiously raised the cup to my lips and sipped. It was both bitter and sweet at the same time, with something that burned pleasantly down my throat. I felt as though I had overcome an obstacle of manhood and I happily drank more.

"Everything in moderation, eh?" he said, watching me. I nodded, tasting the cheese.

"Thank you...for ...um...earlier," I said, uncertain how my thanks would be received by a strange man like him. He merely shrugged.

"So...um...have you gotten any responses back from your parents? From when you wrote them?" I asked.

"Why would I write to them?"

"But, in the classroom, you said that you should write to them more often."

"Did I? That's intriguing. I must have been lying." he said, bemused. "Unfortunate that there's no address for the prestigious family 'No One'.

"I'm sorry! I should have thought before I asked...I'm a conversational dunce sometimes." I said, realizing that he was admitting in a roundabout sort of way that he was either an orphan or a bastard, both very shameful things to be.

"Don't worry, it made getting away with things a lot easier when I was younger," he laughed.

"But that's a horrible thing to say!"

"Is it? It's all in the perspective," he said and stood up, brushing the snow from his trousers. "So you've written every day, and still haven't gotten a response? How interesting."

"How did you know that?" I demanded.

"Context clues?" he shrugged. "Either your mother is too busy to reply or...the letters aren't getting to where they are supposed to go...or..."

"Or what?"

"They aren't getting out at all," he finished, leaning in confidentially.

"But that's impossible. Janos said that I could write home as often as I like," I retorted.

"That doesn't mean they get sent out..." he speculated wickedly.

"Janos doesn't bother with any of that double-talk!" I defended.

"Then perhaps he doesn't know. Why would someone as important as he is even be concerned with the mail?" he said, "But I wonder, if it is such an ordeal to contact the outside world...how will your request for visiting home be received?"

"Who said that I wanted to go home?" I growled, burning with shame.

"No One, I guess," he sighed.

"Just what are you implying, Moebius? That there's some sort of conspiracy going on? Some diabolical plot to keep us away from our families?" I demanded.

"I'm implying nothing," he replied and took a final swig of the wine. He walked away a few paces, looked up at the sky and said, "What a fine day. Oh and Mortanius?"

"What?" I asked, now fully irritated.

"You're late to your next class."

I uttered a cry of horror and as quickly as I could, I ran back into the academic wing where my alchemy class took place. Being late, I was made to sit out in the hallway, balancing very heavy tomes on my head. And while I tried and failed at this task again and again, I noticed that Moebius had this very same class with me. He had not run back with me! Though I was thoroughly annoyed, I couldn't help but harbor a certain admiration for him. He was being disrespectful, yes, but he was doing it in such a quizzical way as to be endearing. I decided that he should be my friend from then on...

and he would come with me when I went to inquire about the letters later.


	7. Chapter 6: The Business of Prophecies

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Six: The Business of Prophecies

"And as the snake's Venom enters the Body of the rat, the Foul Magick by which It has been Returned to this Plane enters the Bodies of others. For it is the Humours of the Body that the Evil Trick is worked and it is the Source of the humours that must be used to Quell That which has Ris'n...I say to you again. Doe not call upp Any that you can not put downe; by the Which I meane Any that can in Turne call up somewhat against you, whereby your Powerfullest Devices may not be of use. Ask of the Lesser, lest the greater shall not wish to Answer, and shall commande more than you."

At Moebius' sage advice, I began to study, rather than fear, my inherited powers. "It would be a very bad thing for you to be walking through a graveyard one day and suddenly sneeze and awaken the entire sleeping congregation, if you know what I mean," he had said to me and laughed at how funny the idea was to him. While I did not appreciate his macabre humor, I did take it upon myself to master my Necromancy. In the dustier corners of the vast library, I had found a volume written by the very first Guardian of Death, an Ancient by the name of Vildebody. It proved helpful, though extremely archaic and hard to read, but I was determined. I did not understand this particular passage, but I was going to ask Moebius. He had been helping me immensely in finding and deciphering various Necromantic books and was urging me to test out my powers in a more controlled environment. What he really meant was that we should go to some lone gravesite to see if I could control the inhabitant while he stood by with a shovel just in case something should go wrong. I was loathe to attempt anything just yet, but I knew it was an inevitability.

That I had raised my grandmother from the dead and sent her back was plain to me, and the idea was becoming less and less disturbing as time passed. I could see the tormented spirits of the damned, as had happened upon arriving at the Citadel, and I could soothe them, sending them wherever it is that spirits go. At this, Moebius seemed intensely pleased, though he claimed he could not do the same. He was the Guardian of Time and more than once, I wondered how exactly Time magic manifested itself in him. The only outward sign that I had seen so far was the curious symbol on his forehead. I would have to ask him about it.

"Aren't you going to rhetoric class today?" I heard my companion ask from behind me. Damn him, I could never hear him approaching!

"No, this is by far more interesting," I replied without looking at him. He came over to the table and peered down at the book.

"Aren't you going?" I asked him, for we shared the same class.

"No, this is by far more interesting," he repeated.

"I think, between the two of us, we'll have a full education for one by the time we've graduated," I grinned.

"Isn't delinquency fun?" he asked.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," I said, "My power is quite evident, as far as what I can do with it. But what can a Timestreamer do? Can you...maybe...reverse time?"

He motioned at an inkwell and commanded me to drop it. I did so and watched the black ink explode onto the stone floor. I looked up at him, who was scrunching up his face in concentration. After about a minute of this, he opened his eyes brightly and shrugged.

"I guess I can't!" And then he laughed and laughed.

"Well, aren't you going to clean it up?" I demanded.

"No. I wasn't the one who dropped it," he said, tittering.

I knew it was pointless to argue with him. I retrieved a rag and cleaned up the ink as best as I could, cursing him with all sorts of new names that I had picked up from the other students. As he watched me clean, he propped his feet on the table and grinned.

"So what's on the agenda for today?" he asked.

"I was hoping we could inquire about the state of the letters that I had sent."

"Good idea. Have you asked any of the other students?" he asked.

"Yes. Those who didn't make fun of me said that they had indeed received plenty of replies. Then do you suppose they're withholding the mail of just us Guardians?"

"We haven't established that yet. Remember," Moebius said, wagging a finger at me, "You could just have a horrible mother."

"Say that again and I will hit you..." I murmured.

"I'd like to see you try."

In the end, we decided to try and find Janos and ask him about it. Even though we had no business approaching him about such a subject, we believed he would at least indulge us and tell us whom to ask. He could usually be found in his study, reading or working on some new painting. Without feeling a bit ashamed of our boldness, we traipsed down to visit the austere vampire. Before long, we were there, only to find an empty study. Books and canvasses and parchment littered the floor and an easel had been set up by the enormous eastern window to let in as much light as possible. A table stood nearby, covered in various pots of paints. I sighed. We would have to look elsewhere.

"Well, maybe he's on one of the balconies upstairs..." I ventured but Moebius had already entered the room. With no hesitation, he began to rifle through Janos' belongings while I watched in horror by the threshold. He flipped through sketchbooks, looked through books and he stopped when he saw what Janos had been working on most recently. On the easel was a freshly stretched canvas. It was evident that he had just started, but already the face could be recognized as the one belonging to his murdered sister Jadwiga. As in life, she was radiant though her smile seemed faintly sad. I heard Moebius mumble something and just as quickly as he entered, he left that room, slamming the door shut behind him.

"He will probably know you went through his things..." I warned.

"What of it?" Moebius growled. "What will he do? Take me aside and ask me why? He will do nothing. He can do nothing...nothing at all." This was the first time I had ever seen him so angry and honestly I was a little afraid of him at the moment. He completely lost the jocular air he constantly maintained and I saw something that resided deeper inside him, something that writhed and twisted in anger and remorse. I was about to say something but then we heard a sneering voice call out to us.

"What business do you two have here?" It was Vorador. I had not seen him since the beginning of the semester and his ferocious appearance had not changed. He loomed like a demon, in the hallway and I couldn't find my voice to reply in the face of his disapproving frown.

"We were looking for Janos," Moebius replied tartly.

"He is not here." Vorador said sourly.

"Where is he then?" Moebius asked.

"He's off finding the Guardian of Nature and I don't know when he'll be back I am in command of the Citadel until he does." Vorador sneered.

"Where are Mortanius' letters from his mother?" the Timestreamer asked suddenly.

"What do I know? What do I care? Get out of here before I throw you out..." Vorador warned.

"We want to go to Vassurbunde." Moebius demanded. I couldn't recall ever speaking about actually going home with him but I decided not to interrupt.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I won't explain myself to you, boy. Perhaps you should ask Janos when he returns. He tends to be more...lenient with you." Vorador hissed.

"That is what we will do, then. Thank you," Moebius said, completely changing his attitude from one of deepest hatred to that of happy subservience. He bowed at the waist, turned and walked away. Throwing an apologetic look to Vorador I hurried after him.

"What in God's name was that all about?" I demanded when we were a good distance away.

"I wanted to know if we could leave here of our own free will. Apparently we cannot," Moebius replied in a whisper.

"Maybe Vorador was just trying to be difficult..."

"Do you want to see your family?" Moebius demanded.

"Um...yes...but what's that got to do with..."

"We leave tonight." Moebius said, "Tell no one about this." I nodded gravely. I was afraid of what kind of trouble we were bound to get into, but I was even more afraid of what would happen if we didn't leave. What that meant, I didn't know but I felt it deep inside my heart.

"Will we be coming back?" I asked him.

"Of course. Our destiny lies here," he said, as though it was obvious to anyone. "Get packed. I'll get us some food and supplies for our way there."

"But what if someone tries to follow us?"

"Let me take care of that," he replied cryptically and I said no more.

On that clear night, we escaped with relative ease. It didn't seem like anyone had noticed us as we passed through the mighty archways. It astounded me at how much food Moebius had managed to procure. He had told me to dress as common as I could, and so I borrowed a brown tunic and cloak from him. Together, with our packs on our backs, we headed into the wilderness. I remembered how, on my journey here, that we had horses. I regretted not having that luxury now, but I was determined not to show my fear or weakness to my friend.

We soon reached the huge lake that surrounded the Citadel and we pulled the boat to us. I wasn't exactly thrilled at having to row again, but to my relief Moebius went ahead and did it for us. Though he was a thin man, the stamina he exhibited was astounding. He didn't take any breaks like I had and he didn't seem fazed in the slightest for it. In no time at all, we were across the lake and we proceeded to hike through the snowy fields. The brutal pace Moebius set kept my mind off of how cold it was. I had to struggle very hard to keep up with his long strides.

It was like this for the rest of the journey. He was always leading, always silent and always with that far away look in his eyes. We passed through village after village, stopping only to sleep and eat. I wanted to stop for a while to look over some historical architecture, but Moebius insisted that we keep moving. He seemed to always be listening for something, like he suspected that someone had been following us the whole way. Though I would inquire as to what exactly he was listening for, he would only wave his hand and say it was nothing.

We ran out of money long before we reached our destination. We had discovered this when we stopped at Nactholm. I was prepared to have to sleep out in the cold, like we often did when we were far away from any village or town, but we were out of food as well and I couldn't ignore my grumbling stomach. I was afraid Moebius was going to suggest stealing food, but he shook his head and said that was below us. He then led us to a tavern. A very pretty young girl led us to a table by the fire and asked what we wanted to drink. I had never been in a tavern before, so I was unsure of what and how to order (seeing as we had no money) but Moebius, with all the charm in the world, asked in the easy Nactholm dialect if she'd bring by some ale when she had a moment. I stared at him in horror as he merely grinned back at me.

"We don't exactly have money to pay for that!" I cried.

Without losing his grin, he kicked me under the table and asked me to keep my voice down.

Soon, the serving girl had returned to us with mugs of strong smelling stuff and silently I watched as Moebius went ahead and ordered some stew for us.

"What are you doing?" I finally hissed.

"I think she likes you," Moebius replied. I blushed immediately. I had never really thought about women very much but at the moment, they seemed like a very fascinating...subject.

"You really think so?" I asked timidly but then I glared at him. I was becoming used to his evasive ways and he wasn't going to get away with it this time! "Don't you change the subject!"

"Don't worry about the money. Everything is as good as paid for," he assured me. Though the stew was very good, it was spoiled by the absolute fear that we were going to be in so much trouble when it came time to pay for our meal. Before we were finished however, he jumped up on the table and in a deep, menacing voice that was not his own, began to speak of the various patrons' futures. At first, they seemed ready to lynch him, but when he spoke of one's cow about to be stolen by a covetous neighbor, they began to quiet down and listen. He foretold that if a certain farmer wasn't careful he would lose his virtuous daughter to that wandering minstrel that he so hated. Immediately a man jumped up, cried out a girl's name and ran out of the tavern. For nearly a half hour this went on, with Moebius telling the inquiring audience their fortunes.

"Alright, you damn cur! Get down off of my table and get the hell out of here!" the barkeeper demanded. With eyes lit by the fury of prophecy, Moebius turned to the unfortunate man and pointed.

"And you, sirrah, are doomed to fail at your enterprise if you do not change your cheap ways! The heavens will fall on your head, the fires will burn cold and your friends shall sicken and die. It has happened already, has it not? Though it was not your fault, you still feel guilty as though you had poisoned him yourself!" he said, still, I might add, standing on the table. There was a murmur and many gasps. Apparently his words had rang true...somehow.

"Yeah, Boris, you WERE the one who fed him the mackerel!" someone called out.

"And you are pretty damned cheap. You barely cook the meat because you don't want to use up too much wood!" another helpfully supplied. Just then, a frightened young serving girl ran into the room and said that the roof to the storage shed was on the brink of collapse. The heavy wind would be the finishing blow to it. Everyone in the bar ran outside to assist in the repair. Afterwards, when the innkeeper, so impressed with Moebius' insights on the 'heavens falling', had given us a room for free for the night, I could not repress my wonder.

"So that's how your magic works! The gift of prophecy!" I cried, delighted and warm in my soft bed.

"No, that was flat-out, bold faced lies supported by simple observations," he replied, rolling over. "My gift is mere chicanery and bravado. I only told them what they wanted to hear, using their easy-to-guess fears and hopes." At this he sighed, as though disgusted with it.

Stunned and impressed by his ease with the untruth, I went to sleep, exhausted like never before.

We had many incidences like that, where his cleverness and artifice won us a free meal or board but sooner than I expected, we arrived at Vassurbunde


	8. Chapter 7: The Dance Macabre

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Seven: The Dance Macabre

It was dark when we finally arrived to Vassurbunde. We had not met up with any resistance, though Moebius remained convinced that we were being followed. He was busy looking over his shoulder when, with a gleeful cry, I spotted the large black silhouette of my father's manor. With renewed strength, I ran to the darkened town, heedless of whatever dangers might lurk in the alleys and sidestreets. It seemed like an eternity had passed since I roamed these streets. So much had happened! I was no longer the unexperienced and untested child who cried and whimpered at the slightest confrontation. I was the Necromancer, part of the Circle of Nine, and I feared nothing. The streets were barren and empty, and there was a horrible stench in the air, as though the peasants had managed to create even more waste. Only then did I hear the running footsteps of my friend, trying to catch up to me. He strode beside me with a worried look upon his sharp face.

"Moebius! Welcome to Vassurbunde!" I cried happily,holding my arms out wide.

"Where do you live?" he asked quickly. I pointed at the manor, standing majestically amidst the dilapidated warehouses and residences and he whistled, clearly impressed. With another look over his shoulder, he suggested we get inside quickly.

"Why? What's wrong, friend?" I asked.

"I'm not certain. Something is wrong..." he nearly whispered, "Can't you feel it?" I shook my head in reply.

"You're being paranoid, Moebius. Perhaps all those lies are catching up to your conscience," I replied and wagged my finger as he had done many times.

"I'm serious," he hissed.

"You always are..." I laughed. Then I asked suddenly, "Did you kill all those vampires? The massacre at the Citadel. Did you do it?" The look I received from him was one of mixed surprise and outrage and I immediately wished I had not spoken.

"What would you do if I told you that I did?" he replied, a strange light coming into his eyes.

"I...I'm sorry...I didn't mean..." I stammered, reverting back to my cowed demeanor.

"Oh but you did..." he grinned. "What if I told you that I did? That I slew each and every one of them, and delighted in watching the life fade from their eyes?" He stepped closer and I grew afraid. "Someone has to do the dirty work, Mortanius. Though gods and kings talk and banter about doing mighty deeds and waging righteous wars, people like me are standing in the sidelines, ready with the shovel. Let me ask you a similar question, friend. Did you enjoy siccing your grandmother upon your hated father?"

My face burned when he brought up my most horrible secret. I had come to the conclusion long ago that, under the pressure and frustration of my overbearing father, I had unintentionally raised my grandmother from the dead, even though I had not known the reanimating chant. But I had told no one! Not even him!

"No, Moebius I did not! It was an accident!" I shouted, not even bothering to wonder how he knew of that sordid affair.

"Of course," he shrugged and laughed. "So it was an accident when you whispered the chant over the old bag's corpse? When you whispered the damnable words, in complete innocence and directed her to your father's flesh?" He laughed wickedly and I was glad we were alone on that darkened street. He threw his head back, and in the prophetic voice he used at the taverns he shouted.

"How did it go again, Necromancer? Say it with me, boy! Say it with me and despair! Y'AI NG'NGAH, YOG-SOTHOTH H'EE-L'GEB F'AI THRODOG...U'AAAH!"

A low moan came from the shadows of the alley nearest us.

"What the hell was that?" he asked in a whisper, turning to look. I took the opportunity to get the best of him. I swung...

...and before I knew it, I was on my belly with Moebius pressing his knee into the small of my back and holding my arm behind me in a most wrenching grip. He bent down close to my ear and began to whisper in a voice like poisoned honey.

"Listen to me, Mortanius. You're my friend. I like you far too much to want to hurt you but I will have you end this sort of behavior now," he said and gave my wrist a vicious twist. I gasped in pain and ceased my writhing. "You see? I have the upper hand."

"Let me go!" I cried, nearly in tears.

"You have to prove to me why I should."

"Please..." I said but that yielded no results. I tried again. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry!"

"That won't do it. No, I think I like you like this after all..." he drawled and pressed his weight down even more upon me. It felt as though my arm were about to break!

"What do you want me to say?" I demanded.

"I want you to beg..." he began to say. Suddenly, he released me. Shaking from the pain, I managed to stand. He brushed away some grit in my hair and smiled, with his hands on my shoulders.

He had an embarrassed flush to his face.

"I'm sorry. I get a bit defensive sometimes. I will explain everything to you in due time. About me...about the massacre...about Jadwiga. I trust you, Mortanius. You know that? I actually trust you." He sighed to himself and added, "And when we get back home, I'm going to teach you how to fight," he chuckled.

"But I don't want to fight," I replied, rubbing my sore arm, shocked at his sudden change of mood..

"What will you do if a vampire decides to make a tasty snack out of you?" he asked as we resumed our walk to the manor as though nothing had happened.

"Why would any vampire want to feed off of me?" I snorted.

"Mortanius!" he exclaimed, "You're young, tragic and so wonderfully solemn! You'd be doomed for sure! Besides, a starving vampire isn't very discriminating."

"And would learning how to fight help my chances at all?" I scoffed.

"We Serioli thought it worked out pretty well..." Moebius replied, "It's very simple. Vampires have some ridiculously sensitive nerve endings in certain places...along with a specialized digestive system...the base of the skull...the esophagus...the carotid arteries, all for example... you've got one vulnerable creature. Press hard in the right spot and victory is yours."

"So you did kill them."

"Yes, Mortanius," he sighed. He suddenly looked much older than me, even with our seven year difference, there in the misty moonlight, "but I didn't enjoy it, no matter what I may have said earlier."

I was about to ask more questions but then we heard another groan come from the darkness. With his arm around my shoulders, he quickened our pace and motioned me to not look back at the source of the noise as we walked through the dank and empty street.

"It's probably a drunk, or something..." he said and I could tell that he didn't believe his own words. "Do you think your mother will have anything to eat?"

"I sure hope so," I answered and then I gasped. Lying in the middle of the street was a huddled mass of rags and filth, clearly a downtrodden man. He was wearing a heavily stained overcoat and a ratty old hat and he looked as though he had seen better days. Perhaps he was drunk and perhaps he was not, but he wasn't safe just lying there like that.

"Sir?" I prompted, shaking him by the shoulder. "Sir, you have to get up. What if a cart comes and runs you over? Sir?" He only moaned wretchedly in response. I called over to Moebius to help me when the man finally lurched to his feet. He gave out another groan and swayed perilously. I reached out to help him but Moebius suddenly shouted from behind me.

"Mortanius! Get away from him!"

Dumbly, I peered into the man's face. The hat he wore hid most of his features but the horror made itself very plain nonetheless. The flesh of his face was as white as a graveworm and the skin around his mouth was badly shredded, giving him an eternal and sardonic grin. With arms reeking of rot, he reached out for me. Moebius suddenly threw me to the ground, forcing the breath out of me in a painful blow. I heard a sound, as of metal scraping against metal and I knew Moebius had drawn the sword he had insisted on taking with us. Still doubled over, I looked up only to see him behead the creature, as quickly and gracefully as a vampire. Done with his work, he hauled me to my feet.

"That was a zombie!" I exclaimed after I caught my breath. I heard distant groaning and moaning coming from the other streets, too many voices were giving out the the undead signal for 'food'. At each avenue and each alleyway, stood swaying forms, reeking and terrible in the scant moonlight. Their glassy eyes goggled at us hungrily while mouths hung agape. I noticed that some of them seemed to have sustained horrible injuries but they didn't seem to be hindered in the least. Here was one with a mangled stump for an arm. There was another with no jaw! Her tongue lolled like a dead thing onto her bloody chest. Slowly, with outreaching arms, they were coming for us. There were thirty of them at least. We were surrounded!

"What happened here while I was gone?" I asked. Moebius didn't answer. He readied his sword.

"Stay close!" Moebius hissed. Though there were many, they were stupid, and made no effort to get out of the way of the blade that bore their final death. Those that ventured too closely were laid to rest. Despite his wickedly quick sword, they had all come too close, and Moebius couldn't behead them all at once. I watched in impotent horror as they seized him, always with that horrid moaning, and held him down as they eagerly begun to feed.

"For it is in the Humours of the Body that the Evil Trick is worked..." a passage sprang into my mind, nonsensically but with grim portent. I had done this. Listening to the agonized screams of my friend, I closed my eyes and began to chant. I wasn't concerned with them grabbing me...they wouldn't harm their master...

"OGTHROD AF'F GEB'L-EE'H YOG-SOTHOTH 'NGAH'NG AI'Y...ZHRO!" At the final syllable of that foul formula, all the hideous beings ceased their feasting and dropped lifelessly to the ground, as though they were puppets whose strings had suddenly been cut...but wasn't that the case after all...? Things grew murky and I felt horribly weak and drained as I crawled over to the body of my friend. He still clutched the sword, but for all the good it did him. He had been lain open by the claws and teeth of those monstrosities and blood covered him in a fine glaze. It was as the first time I had met him...

"I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..." I cried over and over again, cradling his inert body in my arms. I watched as he smiled, always so knowing, even while on the brink of life...and then, he was gone.

Everything faded to a merciful black...and I was dead to the world...

Author's note: Once again, ripped from the pages of Lovecraft's 'The Case of Charles Dexter Ward', I got the weird chant that's all in caps. Don't hate me...sniff I'm just a fangirl...


	9. Chapter 8: Resurrection Sickness

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Eight: Resurrection Sickness

I awoke to darkness. My mind was mercifully numb and my body was sluggish, so I made no attempt to crawl out of the wonderfully soft bed. Though there was no pain, it felt as if every hair on my body were standing on end, creating an unpleasant tingling sensation. My eyes ached and my mouth was horribly dry. It was then when I knew I was thirsty that I made an effort to study my surroundings. I was in a room, with plain, bare walls and heavily draped windows. Two other beds occupied the room and it reeked of mold. I realized that I was probably in an inn. I tried to guess what time it might be, but there was no sunlight to give me a clue. Disoriented, I didn't even want to fathom how I ended up here...

The door creaked open, letting in painful rays of light. I blinked away the sudden assault, only to see Vorador standing in the doorway. He was dressed as usual, like an excessive nobleman, but the fine garments were torn and shredded in places. I could not read the expression on his bestial face, so I resolved to say nothing until he spoke.

"It's good to see that you are at least conscious," he said at last. His tone was as unreadable as his face.

"Where are we?" I asked and my voice sounded weak and pathetic to my own ears.

"An inn in Nactholm," he replied.

"How long have I been asleep?" I queried.

"Nearly a day."

A day! Recent events came rushing back to me, threatening to crush my eggshell mind. The escape from the Citadel...traveling to Vassurbunde...fighting with Moebius...and the lurching, blasphemous forms of the hungry thralls...

"What happened?" I demanded and went to spring out of bed. I realized that my clothes had been removed and I stayed under the blankets, feeling absurdly embarrassed.

"I followed you from the Citadel, seeing as how Janos charged me with protecting you two," he replied and the anger in his voice was evident. "I decided to let you go ahead and visit your family and allow you to get rid of your pathetic homesickness. I did not foresee Vassurbunde being entirely infested with zombies. I arrived when I could, but I was a bit too late," he explained. "I barely managed to save you." He strode closer to me, and I shrank back ashamedly into the covers. Vorador ignored my silly human gestures of decency and held my chin in his clawed hand, peering into my face with unknowable emerald eyes.

"What?" I asked, after a time.

"Look into the mirror and you will see for yourself," he said and handed me a clean pair of clothes. They were quite similar to the ones I had been given by Moebius...

"Where's Moebius?" I asked suddenly. A pained look flashed in his eyes. As soon as I saw it, it vanished.

"Where is he?" I demanded again.

"He's dead." Vorador growled and looked away.

A silent moment passed between us. Moebius was dead? He had died, trying to save me from the undead horde...the horde that was bound to me and was never going to do me any harm...suddenly I had a loathsome and terrible idea and I knew what I had to do...

"I want to see him," I said.

"Why?" he asked, and I hated him for what he was implying.

"He's...he was my friend. Please, Vorador," I begged, "I won't do anything...improper. I would never...curse him to unlife," He sighed his response and shrugged.

"The next room down the hall..." he muttered and left me alone. Slowly, in a daze, I dressed, and entered the dim hallway. The walk to the next door seemed to be as long as my whole journey here and with a trembling hand, I opened the door. On a bed like mine, lay his body wrapped in a linen sheet. I drew away the folds so that I could see his face. It had been cleaned of all the gore. His features were relaxed and peaceful as though he were sleeping and the mere sight of it angered me. This was not him! He never looked so placid! His face was always contorted into extremes, either of transcendent laughter or of unfathomable anger. His eyes should be lit with a fervor that went beyond all normal standards. What was this cruel trick?

"Moebius...I'm sorry," I began, for I would be the only one at this funeral. Though sorrow consumed me, I did not feel the onslaught of tears and I was thankful. "It was all my fault. I don't know how you knew it, but yes, I did reanimate my grandmother. She bit my father...I didn't even think about it when I left. Mother thought that he was under an odd fever. He was...he became a zombie, like it said in the book the previous Necromancer wrote. A bitten human will become a zombie, thanks to the 'foul humors'...the secretions of the body. I should have figured it out sooner...why my letters were getting no reply...Vassurbunde had been plagued. And it's all my fault."

"But I will do what's right. I've sent the zombies back where they came so they can't hurt anyone any more. Now all that is left...is you. You were bitten and when you rise from the shroud, you won't be human anymore. You'll just be a puppet of the foul trick. Moebius, you were my only friend...and I think it'll always be that way...I'm sorry." With that said, I sat back on the other bed and waited for the monstrous thing to happen.

When it did happen, I was still unprepared, for this time it was different. I beheld the head rise and his eyes open in terror, and watched the thin lips part as if for a scream too frightful to be uttered. He sat bolt upright, and in that familiar face dwelt more stark, teeming, mind-shattering fear than all the rest of my bizarre life has ever revealed to me.

He turned his stricken sight upon me and finally managed a whimper. He whimpered and hugged himself, still wrapped in the shroud. Then it was he who was crying, weeping violently without even trying to conceal it. He was whispering to himself and I dared to get closer to understand.

"...so stagnant...it was churning but it was still stagnant...he promised me I wouldn't go back there...he promised...the monster in the abyss nearly had me...but he said he wouldn't let it get me..."

"Who is 'he'?" I asked, unsure as to the nature of the trembling creature before me. It was as if he finally noticed my presence and he stared at me long and hard, his eyes full of secrets no man should know.

"God," was all he uttered. Then it seemed as though he returned to himself. The raving light came out of his face and he wiped away his tears.

"Moebius...?" I said, wondering what exactly I had raised.

"What?" he replied.

"You're not a zombie!" I exclaimed and threw my arms around him. His skin was horribly cold, but I didn't mind. "You're alive! You're alive!" He held me for a time, sniffing away the remainder of his irrational tears. Finally, he gently pushed me away.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"An inn in Nactholm. Vorador found us and brought us here," I answered. "How is it that you are alive?"

"Was I ever dead?" he replied and I would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so grave.

"Yes! You had no pulse and you weren't breathing...you were torn to shreds before my eyes!" I cried.

"But here I am," he said, smiling distantly. "What of your mother? Your family...were they...?"

"Everyone is...resting peacefully now," I said and realized everyone I ever cared about was gone...except for him. I told him of why Vassurbunde had been in the state it was in, and of what I had discovered but not understood in the ancient tome. He said he was proud at how I managed to send them all back to the dead and he seemed to lay no blame upon me, though in a way I had halfheartedly wished he had. I needed to be absolved by someone...anyone.

"We should have never left the Citadel," I finally muttered.

"Nothing is for nothing," he said. He held my face in his now-warm hands and made me look at him. He peered into my eyes and smiled.

"What is it?" I asked, thoroughly bewildered.

"Your eyes...look in the mirror."

Frustrated with this, I walked over to the dusty, cracked mirror and peered at the reflection. Staring back at me was a gaunt faced, black haired boy...but one with the eyes of a blind man. No, I thought again, not quite the same...the pupils were gone and the irises were a silvery white which shone with a slight luminescence. On any other occasion, I would have been horrified but I was growing weary of the feeling. I shrugged my shoulders and turned back to face my friend.

"Can you still see the same?" Moebius asked and I nodded. "Janos said that we might undergo some physical changes. Honestly, I was expecting something more drastic. Good thing, eh? It's better than growing huge bat ears...oh hello Vorador."

Moebius grinned wickedly at Vorador, who had come in to see how I was doing...or what I was doing. The vampire gasped at the miraculous recovery and then let out a hiss.

"How are you alive, boy?" he demanded, "You were very dead an hour ago and I'm beginning to think it was better that way,"

"I got better," he replied and I never laughed so hard in all my life.


	10. Chapter 9: Retroscope

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Nine: Retroscope

The weeks passed in a blur, with each event being as nondescript as the next, with only night acting as a veil between dismal days. Vorador had escorted Moebius and myself back home to the Citadel and things resumed as though nothing had happened. I attended my magical studies and poured everything of myself into them. I mastered each enchantment, every hex... anything that the instructor threw at me, I learned, devouring every scrap of lore like a starving man at a feast. I occupied myself at every waking hour with studying and practice and soon I was at the top of the class. I didn't care one bit. Being the head student meant nothing. It was a by-product, a side-effect of my busywork. I merely did not want to have time to think about anything else.

My new status did not ease my situation with the other students, however. They still whispered and pointed; they still avoided me like the plague. Now, though, horror mingled in their gestures, repulsion tainted their glances, and to be honest...I was beginning to like it. I felt like a wretched ghoul, an abomination of nature, as I sat in class drinking up their fear. How utterly inhuman, to be angry at oneself for not feeling bad about enjoying such a pleasure! To know the sin and not stop! Apathy had settled in my spirit alongside this new aura of loathsomeness...ah, the beauty of being numb!

I saw very little of Moebius in class. He seemed to somehow have excused himself from such things and I did not care whether he was there or not. He seemed to be occupied with more ...interesting tasks. I did not know the nature of his 'independent studies' but he seemed to be on the verge of something exciting. He would pore over complicated diagrams that he had rendered the night before and claim to almost understand them, as though he hadn't written them in the first place. I grew used to his erratic behavior and ignored his constant pacing while I worked on whatever formula I was assigned to master. He mercifully never brought up the Vassurbunde incident. He instead seemed to politely waiting for me to speak of the horrid thing, God only knows why...

I was in class, one day, having been paired up with another student in order to decipher some runes. They were ridiculously easy, but she seemed to be having some trouble, probably due to my presence. Though I inspired fear in everyone, I never did it on purpose, so I tried to help her as nicely as I could. All I knew was that her name was Avelice, she was from Stalhburg, and she had hideous eczema. She would have been gorgeous, but for the scabrous patches covering her face and arms. All the rest she covered in dark heavy clothing and what she couldn't clothe, she hid with her flowing red hair. And she acted as though I were the repulsive one!

"It's 'Saramood'..." I said, finally beoming impatient with her ineptitude. I pointed at the faint symbol on the page we had been assigned. "See the sloping arch? That means it's from the pyrogen family."

"...thank you..." she murmured, with her eyes eternally downcast, and scribbled in her notes.

I shifted in my uncomfortable chair. I wanted so much for class to be over so I could go see Moebius and ask him what he was creating. I was curious, to say the least, buthad beenafraid to ask. The Timestreamer's explanations could get a bit...esoteric.

"Mortanius?" she asked, and I involuntarily quivered. It had been a long time since any female had even said my name.

"What?" I snapped, without meaning to sound so harsh. She visibly flinched and I felt bad.

"I...where did you go for so long?" she asked with a quavering voice. "Were you sick?"

"No," I replied, wanting to end this conversation right now. What a wonderful time to start wanting to be sociable!

"Oh...did something happen back at your home? I know they let Erich out to go see his father. He had consumption," she rambled on, "His dad I mean. Erich didn't have consumption."

"No," I said again and she blanched at the tone of my voice. Moebius had told me that it was preternaturally deep, especially for my age. I never noticed, but it must have had some sway, because she didn't speak again for the rest of the period. When it was time to leave, she scrambled out of the room as quickly as she could. I gathered up my books and walked down the hall, not even realizing that I was watching her. She seemed so small for one so tall...she scurried like a mouse. Our destinations must have been close in proximity, because we were traveling down the same hallway. I saw a group of girls, obviously her friends, meet up with her. There was chatter and laughter, but from where I was walking, it seemed as though she didn't join in with them. I would have continued down my way, but I overheard a snatch of their conversation over the din of voices.

"So, Leper, did you get your work done?" one girl asked of her casually. Avelice nodded, not even flinching at the horrible name, as they began to walk together.

"How was it working with Mortanius?" another girl asked her, "Did he try to steal your soul?"

"Don't be rude, Clarice!" the first girl, obviously the leader, hissed, and then asked, "He didn't...did he?" Avelice shook her head. "Whew! I'm just glad you were paired up with him, Leper! It saved us from having to work with him."

"He was nice enough..." Avelice nearly whispered.

"He'd be nice to you," another girl stated, "You're the closest thing to a corpse in the class. He probably thought you were pretty 'cause your skin's all rotten. Familiarity, you know?"

Avelice said nothing and I grew furious. Why wouldn't she speak up? Why wouldn't she defend herself? Before I knew it, I had approached the gaggle and somehow managed to stare every one of them dead in the eye. All laughter and talk ceased as I stood before them.

"Horrible...you're all so horrible..." I said.

"W...what?" one stammered.

"She may have some kind of condition, but she is no leper," I continued. "Have any of you even seen a leper? Could you imagine the pain and the torment and the sadness that a leper experiences every day? No, of course you wouldn't. You're all too high-born for that. Fate is apparently on your side." I stepped closer and felt a surge of hot energy prickling my skin. I loved the way they were looking at me, and the feeling of power that rushed over me.

"Leprosy would be suitable for one such as you. Then your outside would be as ugly as your inside," I said. I reached out to the trembling girl, seemingly paralyzed with fear, and I ran a finger across her warm, perfect cheek. She screamed instantly at my touch. Together, in a maddened herd, they all fled, with their cries echoing down the hallway.

I turned to glance at Avelice. I didn't know what I had been expecting, but her expression was not what I wanted. She looked at mewith a mixture of confusion and frightfor a moment, and then turned herglanceback down the corridor. A second passed and she made her decision. She ran down the hall after her friends and inexplicably, I felt a pang of regret.

I stood, frozen in place, recoiling from the waves of energy flowing across my skin. I had felt this before and I knew that I had done something terrible...I began trembling. I couldn't seem to catch my breath and I stumbled down the corridor. I felt nauseous and my vision was blurry. I needed to see Moebius at once! I needed to tell him that I had done it again!

I found him in his tiny, clutteredroom, sitting upon his bed with his eyes closed, swaying gently to a rhythm only he could hear. I plowed through the stacks of books, papers and trinkets he kept strewn about and called out his name, finally winning his attention.

"I wouldn't worry. You summoned up some necromantic energy, but not enough to do anything, except to scare her out of her wits. Good for you," he said.

"H...how do you know about all that?" I demanded, clutching at my chest. It felt like my heart was about to burst!

"I usually look back instead of forward," he replied. He led me to his bed and bid me to lie down. "I'll explain later. But now, tell me."

"Tell you what?" I demanded.

"I'm not sure. Tell me whatever you came here to say," he said and I grew angry. I watched as he fiddled with a small piece of quartz upon his battered desk, as though he didn't care about my plight. I glared at his carefree smile. Every time I asked him anything, he would never give me a straight answer, if he gave me an answer at all! He was always so evasive and I was damned sick of it! I nearly moaned, as another wave of nausea hit me.

"You know why you feel ill, right?" he said after a brief silence.

"No Moebius," I growled, "Tell me. Enlighten me as you so love to do,"

"You make yourself sick," he continued, sitting on the end of the bed and patted my boot, "You refuse to come to terms with your own identity and thusly, you sicken yourself."

"I'm in no mood for metaphors!" I yelled.

"Neither am I," he hissed, changing his mood in a whipsnap second, "I am absolutely tired of having to ease your eternal insecurities! You are the Guardian of Death. The magic of the Pillar you protect not only allows you to tap into its power...it has shaped who you are, from the day of your birth. It has twisted and molded your mindset and your personality. It has made you who you are."

"We've had this discussion already," I said.

"So why won't you embrace it?" he leered, "I'm sorry, Mortanius, but fate has given you a ghastly role. You have the ability to reanimate corpses, to soothe the souls of the damned and I don't know what else. Embrace it, instead of being afraid of it or hating it. If you live in constant dread of 'the next incident', it'll happen again. And again."

"It was all my fault...Vassurbunde...everyone died because of me..." I sighed and turned away from his burning gaze.

"Yes it was," he agreed.

I was stunned at what he had said. It really was my fault. I wanted him so badly to tell me otherwise but no...Moebius the vicious snake finally sank his fangs into the vein. I turned back around to stare at him. He shrugged and smiled.

"I'm not saying you did it maliciously," he continued, "but the fact remains that you raised your grandmother from the dead, and in turn she bit your father. It was your ignorance that allowed him to be treated as though he had some kind of mere flesh wound and it was naïve carelessness that allowed you to forget about him when you left to go live at the Citadel. If you hadn't been born, none of that would have happened. If you hadn't existed, Vassurbunde would still be a thriving, happy little town."

The wall of apathy and numbness that I had so carefully built up over the past weeks was toppled in an instant. I was ashamed at the tears that welled up, unbidden into my sight. I couldn't stop shaking and I didn't even bother to smack away his arm when he put it over my shoulders.

"I want to show you something," he said. Sniffling like a damned brat, I nodded and followed him. From a closet filled with a frightening amount of papers and boxes, he carefully pulled out a small, but thick cauldron. It was made of rough-hewn stone, and runes that I could not identify were crudely carved around its circumference. He retrieved a pitcher of water that had been sitting on his desk for some reason, and poured the contents into the bowl. From a box shoved underneath his bed, he procured four tiny red candles and ran a match underneath each one. When the bottoms were properly melted, he stuck them onto the cauldron like the points of a compass. He lit the wicks, sat back and waited.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm showing you what you need to see," he grinned and asked me to shut the door and the curtains. I did so, and when I came back I wasamazed to see that white smoke was now billowing over the surface of the water. Moebius waved his hand over the water and to my surprise, I saw the water glow faintly. He leaned in closer and motioned for me to do the same.

"Show me...what I want to see," he whispered and for no reason at all, I shuddered.

I peered in at the water and as the smoke parted, I saw the face of my mother. She was smiling sweetly, as I knew her. The scene unfolded before my eyes. I saw that she was sitting at the desk in my father's study, carefully writing out a letter. I could see that her fine dress was tattered and torn as though she had been in a battle with a beast. Then I noticed that the study was in the same sort of disarray. The drapes were hanging from the rod above the window and the wallpaper was shredded as though someone had been clawing at it. I saw that all the other furniture in the room had been pushed up against the door in a great heap. By this blockade stood three servants, each covered in blood and one had a horrible wound as though a large portion had been taken out of her neck. She was lying upon the floor, gasping, while her eyes bugged out of her head. She was going to die soon.

"We've got to do it now, Sarah, before she turns into one of them things out there!" one servant was screaming at the other. She was brandishing an iron poker taken from the fireplace. The other servant was crying hysterically and clutching a pair of tongs. She would shriek every time the door pounded and hunker down, holding her head.

"But we can't...it would be wrong!" she was saying, "You can't actually want to cut off her head!"

"Why not? It seemed to work on the other ones!" the first one demanded and turned to my mother, "Missus Isabella, tell this ninny that we've got to do it!"

"It really doesn't matter," my mother replied dreamily and continued to write.

"But Missus! Oh, hell, who am I kidding? You're far gone..." the servant replied, "I say we try our luck with the window. I know that they're everywhere out there, but I'd rather try than get torn to shreds in here. The door's nearly broken."

"Good luck then," my mother said quietly and did not look up as the serving girl hurled herself out of the window. The moaning coming from a hundred throats pealed out from the courtyard, followed by a shriek and a series of ugly wet sounds. The pounding at the door continued.

My view changed from omniscient to limited to over my mother's shoulder and I could see what she was writing. Her letter ran thusly:

My dearest son,

If you should ever read this letter, then you will be able to guess what has transpired here. I believe this unusual plague will have spread to the far corners of Nosgoth and the symptoms of those who suffer from it will not be new to you. I have been infected as well, and I wish to spend my last moments as a human being thinking of you. I feel glad that you are safe amongst your beloved vampires at the Citadel and the only thing I regret is how your father and I sheltered you from the world. I am afraid that you will see that which we wanted to hide from you, the ugly side of society. The world is a cruel place, full of hates and prejudices but you must not let the mire drag you down. It is so easy to give into your fears and your hate. It is easy to doubt others but it takes a true noble to believe in others. I feel that you will grow strong and do good things for Nosgoth as one of its Guardians. I am proud of you and I think that with your incredible mind, you might even discover a cure for these unfortunate souls. I only wish that I could see you one last time. But I do not want you to feel any remorse for what has happened here. You must not let regret for not being here consume you. Instead, look to the sky, look to the future and do what you can do now, rather than what you could not back then. I am feeling faint now, so I will go to my destiny, born as a human and facing it as one.

Be glorious,

Mother

With the letter finished, she smiled, sighed and closed her eyes. I heard the door crackle and splinter and there was a great clatter as the pile of furniture began to topple. I saw the undead horde storm into the room...and everything went black.

The surface of the water was as it ever was, smooth and sparkling. It took me awhile to get my bearings. I was sitting alongside Moebius in his room and the things that I had seen had happened nearly a month ago. I wanted to cry more, but I had nothing wet left in me. I looked over at my friend, who wore a grim expression on his face. He met my gaze and I could not tell what he was thinking. I gave one final shudder and sighed.

"Will you help me?" I asked him. He nodded. I wasn't sure what I wanted help with, exactly, but I felt as though I had an enormous obstacle in front of me. I was going to have to climb it...and soon. Moebius rose to his feet and pulled up the cowl of his robe.

"You can stay here if you still don't feel well," he said.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Janos is coming home today. I have some things I want to ask him," he replied. I could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn't want me to come along. I said that I would sleep here and he was satisfied, walking away with the air of someone going off to battle. I slept well for the first time in a long while and when I awoke, it seemed as though all hell had broken loose.


	11. Chapter 10: The Serioli's Heirloom

Rigor Mortis

Chapter 10: The Serioli's Heirloom

When I awoke, the day was nearly over. The sun was glowing like a mad red eye sinking into the horizon and shadows had begun to crawl over the tundra. Already, I felt uneasy. Something felt...wrong. I flung the blankets away from me and crawled out of Moebius' bed. Even though I had slept soundly for a few hours, I felt more haggard than before. On my way out of his cramped room, I stumbled over the little stone cauldron my friend had brought out and spilled water on a pile of papers. I tried my best to sop it up, but they were beyond salvaging. I picked them up, and laid them to dry on his desk and that was when I actually looked at them. It was a diagram of some sort of mechanism, I hazarded, only because it seemed to be made of geometrical planes and what looked like gears and levers. Judging from the endless scribbles of half-solved formula and hypotheses, he had been working on it for some time now. On top of it all were sentence fragments, written hastily in ink over pencil. Some of them made no sense and some of them were frighteningly vague. One I remember the most was the phrase, "The end comes beyond chaos. (exponential variables)3x harmonixers...OZ OZ OZ" The final symbol 'OZ' was strange to me and though I did not know what it meant, I felt uneasy just looking at it. I would have to ask him about it later.

I closed the door behind me and begun to prowl the hallways for signs of my friend. Since night was nearly upon the Citadel, the large crystals set in the walls were beginning to glow with a soft luminescence. I always liked the eerie, but calming feeling the effect gave the wide pathways. Since classes were over for the day, I saw very few people as I wandered. I thought I saw Avelice, standing at a darkened corner, smiling at me from behind her veil of red hair, but when I turned to look, she was gone. Regardless of whether it was real or an illusion, I could not help but smile to myself. Moebius had said that he was wanting to talk to Janos so I guessed that he might still be in the Ancient's chamber. If not, then maybe Janos would know where he went off to, at least. When I approached the corridor leading to his chambers, however, I heard a terrible voice screaming in violent rage and could hardly believe it belonged to my friend.

"Hate me! Seek vengeance! Do something, you suffering little saint! You beast! You monster!" I heard him shriek madly. Suddenly, Vorador ran past me without a glance in my direction and flung open the doors. He let out a terrifying roar and I heard a thick thud come from within the chamber as though something heavy had hit the floor.

"Say the word now Sire, and I will dispose of him!" I heard Vorador cry. The sheer ferocity in his voice made me shake with fear.

"No Vorador..." I heard Janos say weakly. "He is a Guardian and Nosgoth needs him. He...was not wrong to do this...this is really my fault,"

"This is nonsense!" Vorador cried, "While Nosgoth may need a Timestreamer, it will only be harmed by this...this...murderer! If he dies, another will be born to take his place. Hopefully, that one will be better adjusted."

"No!" Janos shouted and I was surprised to hear him raise his voice. "You will not touch him! He is under my protection from here on!"

"Sire..."

"Do not question me, child. Do as I say," Janos commanded.

"Very well...oh, Sire. Your poor wings...let me help you," Vorador cooed.

"No. Take him to Mortanius. He can help heal his wounds," Janos denied.

The door slammed back open and out marched Vorador, with an unconscious and inert Moebius slung unceremoniously over his broad shoulder. Though I couldn't get a clear view, I could tell that my friend had sustained massive wounds. He was absolutely covered in blood. Vorador noticed me for the first time. He glared down at me, with all the fury of hell burning in those green eyes and let out a faint hiss.

"Follow me," he growled. I was too afraid not to oblige. I followed him down familiar hallways to end up back at Moebius' room. Vorador flung open the door and nearly threw him upon his bed. I could now see how badly he was hurt. A large gash had been opened on his throat and was flowing freely. The back of his head, too, was oozing from somewhere, matting his hair and staining the pillow. Vorador sneered one last time and then turned to leave.

"Wait! What am I supposed to do? Shouldn't you get a doctor?" I asked frantically.

"You're a Necromancer. Use your Fleshcrafting," he replied.

"I don't even know what that is!" I admitted. He sighed and knelt down by the bed. He motioned for me to watch closely.

"I know I'm going to regret this one day," he said, "Listen. All you have to do is concentrate on the areas that have been damaged. Feel for the dead tissue,"

"Do I need to touch it?" I asked.

"If it helps," he replied. Tentatively I reached down to feel the ghastly gash in his neck. I dipped my fingers into the glistening blood and noticed with revulsion how more would pump out to the rhythm of his weakening pulse. I was surprised to feel a sort of ethereal tug, as though some sort of essence of his was reacting to my touch. Vorador must've noticed the glint in my eye, because he nodded with grim satisfaction.

"Now just will the ends together. Do you feel the dead portions straining for one another?" he instructed. I watched in amazement as the skin began to grow over the wound, like ice over a puddle of water. Before I knew it, the wound had closed and only drying blood remained as any proof that there had ever been an injury. I felt the back of his skull and winced when I felt the warmth of the blood. I concentrated again, and with much greater speed than with his throat, I healed the injury. I turned to face Vorador and ask him what had happened with Janos, but he had left without a sound.

With the water that remained in the small cauldron, I tried to clean away the remaining blood that was on Moebius' face and neck. He remained unconscious through it and I grew worried. I had heard that those who had underwent horrible head injuries sometimes never awakened. I was determined to see him awake and well again, so I resolved to stay in his room with him. As I sat at his desk, I could not help but stare at his now-soggy papers. OZ. What did that mean? I then thought back to how he had conjured up the image of my mother's death and how he seemed to know so much about that which was hidden. I wondered about the time he had defended me against the undead mob in Vassurbunde and how quickly he seemed to move...and how he had come back from the dead...the look on his face...I never wanted to see that expression on a man ever again. I realized I knew so little about him, when he knew so much about me...

I must've drifted off to sleep because when I awakened, it was night. My neck was stiff from sitting and sleeping in such a hunched over position at his desk I stretched and looked over at my friend. He was still sleeping but when I stood up to stretch some more, his eyes opened and he groaned.

"Moebius! What happened? Vorador wouldn't tell me anything and I was so scared..." I said, sounding more frantic than I meant. He sat up in bed, felt the back of his head and winced.

"It's time to go..." he said slowly.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"We can't stay here any longer. It's not safe," he said and stood. He wavered a bit and so he sat back down on the bed.

"What happened in there?" I asked again.

"I overheard Vorador and Janos talking about what they were going to do with us," Moebius explained, "They want to turn us into vampires, Mortanius."

"What? Why?" I demanded. "Are you sure?" Moebius gave me a look that asked me if I was really that simple and pointed to the large scar on his neck.

"You were bitten?" I asked with horror. He nodded gravely.

"Er...how exactly did it heal up so quickly?" he asked me.

"Fleshcrafting!" I announced proudly.

"Very good. I think it'll be useful to us in the future. For now, though, we have to be careful," Moebius said cryptically, "They won't try it again soon, but we don't have much time."

"What are you talking about?" I demanded. He was beginning to scare me.

"The vampires had this planned all along. They would take us in, and when we reached the proper age, they'd turn us. When I was talking to Janos, he decided he was going to go ahead and try it with me. He attacked me, Mortanius," he explained. I could not fathom the genteel Ancient being so vulgar as to just lunge at someone. Shouldn't he...I don't know... at least ask permission first? I shook my head, trying to decide what to believe. Of course my friend was not lying...after all, I had healed his terrible wounds. I just could not believe that was all to the story.

"I managed to fight him off and that's when Vorador stepped in and knocked me out," Moebius continued, "Now, I know they won't try to do it again soon but we have to be ready at all times." He went to stand up again but I tried to get him to sit back down. He pushed me away, swaying on his feet.

"You're not entirely well," I warned.

"I will stand or I will fall," he growled. "We need to buy some time. We should try to pass this off as base human fear of immortality. We are willing to become vampires, now that we've had proper time to think about it...but just not yet. Better that the entire Circle is gathered before any big changes are made...yes, that sounds reasonable. Of course, I have some heartfelt apologizing to do to Janos...he'll understand. It's Vorador I'm worried about..."

"So you want us to lie?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Of course," he replied with a snap, "Unless you'd rather join the ranks of the blood addicts,"

"But why do they want to turn us in the first place?" I asked.

"So we'll see things their way and govern Nosgoth their way!" he explained exasperatedly, "When the haze of the bloodcurse and the fog of many years clouds our minds, of course we'll forget what it is to be human! The Circle will make decisions that benefit the vampires; let the humans be damned! It happened once before and it'll happen again!"

"But the Circle only governs the Pillars...we don't have any political power," I said, reeling from this insane conversation.

"The Pillars are directly tied to Nosgoth itself," Moebius stated, "Those who have the Pillars have Nosgoth. It's really quite simple,"

"Who's to say that the vampires are unfit to lead Nosgoth?" I asked, "Nothing horrible has happened so far." A mad light flared in his eyes when I finished my statement and I involuntarily took a step away from him. It felt as if he could see through into my very soul and did not like what he saw.

"Who's to say? Who's to say? God, that's who!" he hissed. "Come with me, and I'll tell you everything," I followed him out of his room, and down twisting hallways and down endless staircases. I was not very familiar with this part of the Citadel, but I knew we were close to the place where Vorador, Janos and I discovered the first room of the massacre that happened so many months ago.

On our way to whatever destination he had in mind for us, he began to impart to me a most gruesome story.

"There was a tribe of people long ago known as the Serioli. Though they were merely humans, they possessed great skill with magic, blacksmithing, architecture, and the arts. They lived high up in the mountains, even further up than this, in a valley that always seemed like it was in early spring. The little rivers always had ice flowing along in them, the air was crisp and the cherry trees were always in bloom. The Serioli liked to keep to themselves, preferring to practice their arts and further perfecting their professions, but they would sometimes come down from their lofty homes to aid their brothers the Vampires in whatever castle or temple they were making. They also were called upon to aid in the crafting of magical artifacts. Everything the Serioli touched was perfection. You can see this in the elemental shrines and the many aeries, even this Citadel. But always, they would return to their mountain home. The Vampires would come along sometimes and would be received with great honor, but they would always be asked to return home after a time.

Soon, the vampires grew tired of this secretiveness, and demanded to be allowed to live amongst the Serioli. As always, they were received with all due respect and for a time it was good, for the Serioli remembered that which other human tribes had forgotten and they knew that the Vampire could not help his nature. Soon, however, there was dissent due to one single event. A Vampire had tried to feed off of an unwilling young girl but it was not the girl who came out bloody and bruised. It was the art of 'Si'ra Fanin'; roughly translated it means 'thwarting big brother'. It was a very old tradition comprised of certain magic and fighting techniques that allowed a human to successfully fend off a vampire. The Vampires grew furious that humans were able to do such things, though they did not prosecute the girl who had defended herself. Instead, they went back to their home and after adequate time had passed, they sent a force large enough to crush the Serioli, Si'ra Fanin or no!

A mighty general was placed in charge of leading the attack, General Barthas, and under the banner of the Red Bear, he attacked the valley of the Serioli. In a decisive battle, Barthas slew the only capable military leader that the Serioli could produce. All was thought to be lost. However, the Serioli began to beat back the oncoming aggressors and decimated their forces using guerilla tactics and sheer dumb luck. It seemed as though the Serioli were guessing Barthas' every move. The odds were impossible but it was true; the Serioli were winning the fight. In the final battle, Barthas was dealt a mortal blow; but before he died, he sent out a special telepathic call, known to the Vampires as a Whisper. He called out to his sire, the grand Aloysius, first-born of Vorador, first born of Janos, who was the head of the Audron Empire. He begged for his sire to come and avenge him; to kill the one with the strange crest on his brow, the one who had dealt the finishing blow to him and his army...namely, me,"

My eyes widened and I could not speak. I had heard of the Battle of the Red Bear but I knew there were some discrepancies in his story. It had taken place more than fifteen years ago. If Moebius had indeed been the one who defeated Barthas, then he would have been only seven years old! Not only that, but the Audrons claimed that they had not sent Barthas, that it was an independent order given to him by Aloysius. I decided to say nothing and let him continue, incredulous though I was.

"Before Aloysius arrived, the Audron family sent a negotiator to try and prevent any further bloodshed. Her name was Jadwiga and though she was young compared to her brothers, she showed much skill in handling delicate matters such as this. She refused to see the elders of the Serioli, wanting instead to see the one about whom Barthas had Whispered. Needless to say, I had attained an odd status amongst the elders as some sort of seer and it was left to me to work with her during the negotiations. Together, after many long nights here in the Citadel, we came up with the Great Covenant which was the shining document that would lead human and Vampire to a glorious new future. It allowed for the acquiring of blood for the Vampires to live, and prevented the loss of human life. In turn, we could not use the magical artifacts we had crafted that would render vampires helpless, the thing that had allowed us to win the battle, along with many other just laws. And for a time, it was good...but it fell apart, as all things do. Jadwiga had initiated a secret blood trade, right here in the Citadel, made up of all of humanity's leftovers...the poor, the stupid, the diseased and the criminals. She explained it to me when I finally discovered it, as though she was being merciful to these people. As though a fledgling who couldn't control himself deserved to live among humans! When I refused to accept this, she gave me an ultimatum. Join her or die. She would even turn me into a vampire, for she didn't want to ever be without me...she said it so sweetly as she held the sword to my throat..."

Here his storytelling grew erractic as I heard deep anger echo in his voice.

"I ran. I ran to the sealed chamber that for ages, had been closed and condemned for reasons to old for humans to remember. I entered, I hid...and in that chamber, God came to me and told me that I was not wrong and what Jadwiga had done was evil in His sight. He was the Wheel of Fate, the Hub of Nosgoth, and he maintained the flow of souls in order to preserve Nosgoth. He would purify the souls of the dead and send them to be reborn in a circle of life and death, ever churning...but the souls of the vampires were making it all stagnant, since they were immortal and anchored to their bodies. It was my duty to end this stagnation...and so He delivered me to destroy them all, fifteen years later. I don't know how it happened...it only felt like an instant, but there I was and fifteen years had passed...all the Serioli were gone and the Vampires had lost all pretext of alliance...but I wasn't alone. God had given me His blessing and a relic of my people, a remnant of Si'ra Fanin, and I went in the Citadel and I killed them all with a clear heart...mostly,"

We had arrived to a small antechamber that was empty of nearly all furniture and completely of people. Dust choked the area and only moth eaten tapestries served to decorate the cold, drafty room. I shivered. I still was mulling over the story Moebius had told me. It all seemed so incredible, but it made sense in a way. After all, I had seen the refugees of the blood trade myself...but the lapse of fifteen years seemed too strange...but I had seen and done stranger things myself. I watched, stunned and confused as he pulled down a tapestry and pressed against the stone wall behind it. To my amazement, his hand seemed to pass right through and when he pulled it out again, he was clutching a sort of scepter. It was comprised of a red-scaled snake that was coiled loosely around a simple staff. In the snake's grotesquely wide open mouth was a large violet orb that seemed to glow and shimmer with a sinister light. He brandished it with a mad, zealous smile and patted me on the shoulder.

"This will be the instrument of our triumph against the vampire plague. This will allow us to cleanse the Wheel of Fate and deliver Nosgoth into the hands of those who are able to appreciate God's providence," he whispered, staring into the crystal orb.

"But what you're planning is going to result in the deaths of thousands!" I cried, jerking away from his touch.

"Well," he sighed, "All great movements require a few martyrs."

Funfact: The Serioli are actually mentioned briefly in the LoK series. Start up a new game of Blood Omen and listen to Kain give the description of his Iron Sword. You'll see.


	12. Chapter 11: Absolution

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Eleven: Absolution

She was standing before me and she was lovely to behold. Her hair was flowing over her shoulders and for the first time, I saw her face as it was without concealment. She smiled shyly at me and I took a step closer to her.

"You mustn't. Don't you think I'm repulsive?" she asked coyly and I shook my head.

"I think you're the most beautiful girl in all of Nosgoth," I clumsily replied and felt the blood rush to my face. She laughed and claimed that I was teasing her.

"I would never!" I said vehemently. She took my hands and held them to her cheeks. I felt her skin and it was rough...but wonderfully warm.

"My flesh is scabrous and blighted. I cannot be considered pretty," she sighed.

"Isn't what I think important?" I asked.

"Of course."

"Then disregard everything anyone else has ever told you," I said, "I should be worried about your revulsion of me,"

She leaned in close and whispered in my ear.

"The Clown turned his powdered face to the mirror. 'If to be fair is to be beautiful,' he said, 'who can compare with me in my white mask?'

'Who can compare with him in his white mask?' I asked of Death beside me.

'Who can compare with me?' said Death, 'for I am paler still.'

'You are very beautiful,' sighed the Clown, turning to his powdered face from the mirror."

I did not understand her words but I felt an immense gratitude well up in my heart and I leaned over to kiss her. I felt my lips touch hers and it was as though I had never experienced the sense of touch before. All else before then had been a mere mockery of the faculty. It was over all too quickly and I opened my eyes. She was gone and in her place was a corpse; old and putrefying. The mouth was slack, the eyes white and sightless, and the skull was caving inwards; but I knew it was Avelice. Though now a corpse, she stood when I beckoned and walked with those behind me. She marched with the dead populace of Vassurbunde, who carried my mother in a golden litter. A soundless word from me, and we continued on our way...

"Wake up!" a voice demanded, and I groaned in reply. It was still dark and I tried to shake away the last gruesome images of my dream. I went to bury myself under the blanket but it was cruelly whipped away from my grasp.

"Wake up! We have things to do this night!" the voice insisted and I knew it was Moebius.

"I have a rather important test in the morning. Whatever it is can wait," I grumbled.

"There are more important things in the world than tests!" he hissed, "As far as I'm concerned, you know everything you need to know already."

"Tell that to the instructors..." I growled.

"We need to see Janos," he insisted.

"Aren't you afraid he might try to hurt you again?" I asked, burying my head under the pillow.

"Not in the least. If all goes well tonight, we'll be going on another journey," he answered and then chuckled, "Tell me, Mortanius, why do you insist on sleeping in the nude?"

"What? Oh no!" I cried and thrashed about, looking for concealment. After a second of this, I realized that I was still wearing the tunic I had been wearing earlier and sighed at him.

"Well, now that you're wide awake, we should get going," he said brightly and I wanted to murder him. The helpful bastard handed me my favorite robe and I crawled out of bed. I found I was horribly sore, especially around my knees, shoulders and ribs. Moebius noticed how slowly I was moving and frowned.

"Have you been eating at all?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Of course," I replied. "Why?"

"You look emaciated," he replied, "Look at your face," I groaned and shuffled over to the mirror. I gasped at what I saw. My cheeks were nearly sunken and my eyes looked like they had retreated back into their sockets somewhat, making it look like I was standing under a constant shadow.

My skin was as white as a sheet and I shuddered.

"This is not right..." I whispered.

"Damn Pillars," Moebius cursed behind me and I knew then that it was those ancient structures who had wrought this change.

"Has anything happened to you yet?" I demanded, tearing my gaze away from the mirror.

"Not yet, though I'm afraid to find out the Pillars' idea of what a proper Timestreamer should look like," he shivered and then he laughed. "Do you suppose that with the Guardian of Conflict, his right and left sides would start to rebel against each other?"

"Yes, Moebius, very amusing," I sighed dismissively.

I followed him out of my room and down the crystal-lit hallways to the Ancient's chambers. Our footsteps echoed uncomfortably, and we passed no one else on our way. I didn't know what time it was, but I knew that it must be past midnight. When we arrived to his door, he drew in a deep breath and sighed, as though readying for a difficult task.

"Whatever I say, you go along with it. Understand?" he asked and I nodded. He knocked at the large door and waited. There was a shuffling sound from the other side and then a haggard voice asked us who we were.

"It's Moebius and Mortanius," my friend answered and I noticed the change in his voice. He suddenly sounded morose and tired and I knew he was going to attempt some kind of trickery. I felt an intense wave of revulsion and was surprised at this sudden wave of emotion.

"Come in," Janos said after a time and we entered.

Though I had seen his chambers a few months ago, they had apparently changed. The many canvasses, easels and paintpots were all put away and the room seemed emptier for it even though there were a few bits of old furniture. One wall opened upon a small balcony and he didn't seem to mind letting in the nightly chill. He sat upon a large, overstuffed couch whose fabric seemed almost white from fading age. He was absently stroking one of the many cats he liked to keep and was murmuring some kind words to it. The grimalkin purred contentedly and then proceeded to bite his hand. He laughed softly and pulled the happy chomping thing away from his arm.

"What is it you need?" he asked and bade us to sit. I was astounded at his demeanor. When he looked upon Moebius, I could not see a hint of anger in his eyes. My feeling of revulsion towards my friend grew and I tried to suppress it.

"I wish to apologize," Moebius said after a pause, "I had no right to do what I did...or say what I said,"

"Moebius..." Janos began but Moebius interrrupted him.

"Please, just let me say what I have to say," he said, and I saw him gulp back tears, "You said you understood why I...why I killed Jadwiga. Is that still true?"

"Yes," Janos answered, "Though it hurts, it is still true. What she did...was inexcusable. The blood trade was her creation and she broke the very treaty she helped make with your people. I only wish I had been there to prevent it all."

"So do I," Moebius agreed, "But that is in the past now. You yourself did me no wrong and you forgave me long before I could forgive myself. Janos, do you understand how it is to be under the gaze of such a person? It was as if every time you looked at me, all the evil little parts in my soul were burning. I could not tolerate your forgiveness and compassion. Does...does that make any sense to you?"

"I believe so," Janos said gravely.

"I was so used to the mindset of 'us' and 'them'. I was so used to fighting against something and having to be prepared for anything. I wanted so much for you to hate me. I could deal with hate. I could deal with the fury and the need for revenge. But forgiveness? No, I couldn't stomach that," Moebius continued with a quavering voice. "I thought you were merely up to something but Mortanius here...wise beyond his years...managed to finally convince me that if you wanted revenge, you would have killed me when you found me nearly dead so many months ago. He told me that you were a better person than that and I was shamed."

I tensed at the mentioning of my name. I said no such thing, though what he said made sense. I listened to him speak more, and I was almost convinced that he was confessing his heart to Janos. The look of utter despair and self-loathing seemed genuine...was he really pretending after all?

"Child, I need to apologize to you," Janos said mournfully, "That day when I...bit you...please understand that I was only doing what I thought was best for Nosgoth. I was going to change you into a vampire, thereby preserving the Pillars, but I went about it in the wrong way. Even then...I still could not do it. Vorador was more than willing. You however didn't even get a chance to have a choice." The sight of that tragic and noble vampire putting his face in his hands filled me with sadness and regret. I didn't know what Moebius was trying to do, but this was wrong...

"I do understand," Moebius said, "You were probably wary of what choice I might make. I am here to say to you that I've spoken with Mortanius and he and I will not shrink away from our duty." At this, Janos raised his head and looked at the Timestreamer with an expression both relieved and astonished.

"However," Moebius continued sternly, "We want to have the entire Circle present when that happens. We should all undergo the change together."

"That's more than reasonable," Janos said, wiping away a stray tear. "We have located the Druid already, but we still need to convince her parents to let us bring her here."

"That's where we come in," Moebius said, sniffling and letting out a short, relieved laugh, he continued, "Take the Emblem and search for the next Guardian. Tell us where the Druid is, and we will bring her here."

"I'm afraid you will not be able to get her parents to relinquish her," Janos said.

"I managed to negotiate and maintain a treaty between humans and vampires for five years. I think I can handle this," Moebius laughed.

"I do not want you to do anything underhanded," Janos warned sternly, "If you steal her away, she will not adapt to being a Guardian easily and all of Nosgoth might suffer for her homesickness."

"Oh no, nothing like that, believe me," Moebius assured.

"But what about my examinations?" I asked, finally speaking up for the first time. Janos smiled at me apologetically and laughed.

"You were put in those classes mostly to keep you busy," he admitted. He must have noticed the frown because he blushed and looked away.

"Hey, nothing is for nothing, right Mortanius?" Moebius grinned at me, "So where is the Druid?"

"She is living in a tiny village called Meridian far to the south of the Pillars, near the great canyons," Janos answered, "It's quite a journey even by flight."

"We will find a way," Moebius replied, "All we need is your permission to leave,"

"Then you may have it," Janos smiled weakly, "Take whatever you need to take. I know that you are ready for this. Be safe, both of you,"

"We will. I hope you find the other Guardians soon too. Good luck...and thank you," Moebius said. Janos rose and embraced him quickly, enclosing him with those massive black wings. It was then that I knew that Moebius was merely pretending to be sorrowful because the moment Janos touched him, his mask fell away and a look of utter revulsion crossed his face for a second. The Ancient couldn't see it of course, but I could and I grew nervous. It was the look of one who knew himself to be absolutely right in his cause...and who could not fathom why he might be wrong. I said nothing and the embrace ended.

That night, we began our journey to the south, to find the Guardian of Nature.

May God forgive my silence...


	13. Chapter 12: Lunassah

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Twelve: Lunassah

It had been nearly a month but we were finally approaching the village of Meridian. Luckily, we were given horses and enough supplies to last there and the trip back so we weren't too uncomfortable. We didn't make any stops except to rest at an inn, if we could, though I wanted to see the Pillars as we neared them. Even far away, I was awed at the sheer size and magnitude of the structures and I imagined I could feel a deep, magical pull emanating from them. Moebius decided that we would visit them when we returned home and I was satisfied. I didn't want us to lose track of the Druid simply because I wanted to linger. As my solemn brown horse plodded on through misty moors that gave way to drier arid land, I began to wonder what sort of girl this Druid was. Would she be as nervous and timid as I had been, reviling her powers? Or would she be quick and cunning and horrifically jaded as my friend?

"What are we going to do once we find her?" I asked Moebius finally. He reigned his horse in closer to me and smiled.

"I really don't know," he replied serenely.

"Then why were you so eager to go find her if you didn't have a plan?" I demanded.

"So we could get to her before the vampires," he explained, "We need to get her to realize the human race's predicament before she gets brainwashed with vampiric lies."

"You really are determined to eradicate them, aren't you?" I asked.

"Aren't you?" he sighed. "No, of course not. You haven't exactly experienced their unique brand of tyranny firsthand, have you? That will change, believe me."

We rode on in silence. The air was getting dry and warm and I knew we were far in the deep south of Nosgoth. There was hardly any green to be seen though twisted, gnarled trees struggled to take root in the dusty red soil. I could see no signs of animal life. There weren't any birds flying overhead or any little creatures rustling in the dry scrub brush and I grew more and more concerned. I smelled a peculiar fresh saltiness on the wind to the west and I knew it was the ocean. The sun began to set and as it did, it sent fantastic streaks of crimson and violet against the sky. We would have to find shelter for the night if we didn't find the village of Meridian soon.

"Do you know where Meridian is? Are we close?" I asked. Receiving no reply, I turned in the saddle to look at my friend and I asked him again. Moebius was just staring out blankly at the horizon, seemingly muttering something under his breath. The look on his face was one of stark terror, similar to the expression he wore when he sprang back to life after our trip to Vassurbunde and I shouted his name.

"What is the matter?" I asked, pulling my horse next to him.

"There...there..." he stammered, pointing to the southwest, "It's there!"

"What's there?" I asked him. Still, he stared and pointed. "Moebius! Can you hear me? What's wrong?" I demanded.

"The two flank the third node in the triangle..." he said nonsensically, then he began to scream, "It is where it will all end and begin and end again...Chronoplast! It's there! OZ! OZ! OZ! The end comes beyond chaos!" Not knowing what else to do, I hopped off my horse and shook him by the shoulders. He still wouldn't respond so I pulled him out of his saddle. He hit the ground with a thump but he seemed to regain control of himself.

"I'm sorry. I...don't know what that was all about," he explained, looking up at me from the ground, his face burning with embarassment, "Something...is to the southwest...and it's damned uncomfortable."

"What is 'OZ'?" I asked, helping him to his feet. "I saw it written on your papers when I camped out in your room not too long ago,"

" 'OZ' is..." he stammered, "Well...it's the end of everything."

"The end of the world?" I asked.

"Oh no, nothing near as noisy," he replied, "This is hard to explain to someone else. I don't quite know it myself. It's all very intuitive, time magic is." We climbed back upon our horses and resumed our slow, plodding pace as he tried to describe to me what he could not put into words.

"Imagine that all existence is a big quilt," he said with some difficulty, as he kept staring out to the southwest and losing focus, "Right. Now, time is but a loop, a loose stitch in the universal cloth, and a Streamer may seize upon a chance, a fatal slip...and plunge the fate of planets into chaos. That's OZ,"

"The end of everything..." I pondered. Nothing he said made sense so far. "Why would anyone want to achieve this?"

"I'll remember eventually," he sighed, "Maybe yesterday,"

"You know you just butchered proper language, right?" I asked, exhasperatedly, noticing that he was staring to the southwest again.

Suddenly, his horse let out a mad scream and reared up under him. He was not prepared and he was thrown to the ground. Faster than I had ever seen any horse, it ran shrieking back the way we came. I was halfway ready when I felt my horse panic and bolt. I managed to hang on for a second when it began to buck and I too hit the ground, watching my horse flee after the first.

"That's never a good sign," Moebius said, getting to his feet with a painful wince.

"What do we do now?" I asked after a time, catching my breath.

"We keep on going south," he said. "I know we're close to Meridian. I know it,"

Determinedly, we continued southwards. In the rocky wasteland, all features looked the same and I feared that we were lost, though Moebius seemed to continue onwards as though we weren't. Occasionally he would resume staring out to the southwest, and I would have to shake him in order to snap him out of it. I grew more and more uneasy as night fell. I was too used to having Moebius take charge of everything I didn't like the idea of his incapacitation, however slight. We should have never left the Citadel, I decided. We should have never tried to deceive Janos...this whole journey was ...

"What the hell is that?" Moebius asked, rousing me out of my thoughts. I saw him point to a large tree to the left. When I followed him to go see what was wrong, I realized that it wasn't the fact that it was a tree that was disturbing but the size and type of it. It was nearly fifty feet tall and had a long smooth trunk that swayed gently in the dry breeze. At the very top were huge vibrantly green leaves that were long and flat and fan-like. I knew this to be a palm tree, though I had only seen pictures of it in books. They were supposed to grow in lush, wet jungle environments...not in dusty steppes.

"I think we are very close..." he said, grinning slightly. He wandered off past the tree and I followed. Soon we encountered another oddity. At our feet lay a trail of vivid green grass leading to the wall of the canyon. There was a large hole in the side, about ten feet in height and width and the trail of verdure led into the darkness therein. Cautiously, we crept inside and took a moment to adjust to the inky blackness. Though I could not tell if it was a trick of the eyes, I thought I saw a faint glow coming from some distance beyond us.

"Do you see it too?" I asked my friend.

"Yes," he answered in a whisper, as the custom in dark areas dictated. Together we crept towards the ghostly light. It seemed to take an eternity for us to reach the source, but that was the nature of darkness. It blurs the lines between things and obfuscates the truth, whether metaphorical or not. We could not judge the distance we traveled and had no way to tell time in the hidden canyon cave. We might have spent hours groping around in the dark, feeling only the rough stony walls. At last we reached the origin of the odd glow and we came upon a startling sight. The narrow tunnel opened upon a wide stone chamber. All around the walls were crystalline outcroppings sticking out at random points and giving off faint multicolored lights In the center of the chamber was an elliptical pool of water and surrounding the circumference were a hundred tiny dancing flames, all seeming to flicker and flit about in the air. Admist all this strange wonder, we heard a faint singing and we hid behind a large stalagmite to listen under cover. Peering out curiously, I spotted something moving about in the water and made out the form of a young girl swimming. I blushed furiously, because she undoubtedly wasn't wearing any clothes. Moebius, unconcerned about this situation, stood up and announced himself.

"Excuse me, miss?" I heard my friend ask. "I apologize about barging in here uninvited but..."

Quite suddenly, I heard a roar and saw a flash of something mountainous and furry slam itself into my friend. An immense bear was standing over Moebius, growling and snarling, its fang-filled face an inch away from his. After a moment of utter terror I realized that the bear was not mauling him. It was merely pinning him to the ground and would growl whenever he'd move too much.

"Mortanius..." Moebius called out in a hushed, but terrified voice, "Do something,"

"You're the mighty vampire-slayer!" I replied, unable to move.

"Bears are quite a bit different than vampires..." he hissed.

"I wouldn't try to get away, Sir," a girl's voice called out. "She's liable to chew your face clean off,"

"I wouldn't dream of getting away," Moebius assured in a quavering voice. The bear grunted and began to snuffle through his hair, never taking its eyes off of him for a second.

I looked towards the subterranean pool and saw the young girl peering out at me from the closest edge. Though I could only see her face from the nose up, I could tell that she couldn't be older than ten. She had wide green eyes that didn't miss a thing and she had a mop of strawberry-blonde hair. She looked like a solemn little otter as she stared at me from the pool and I knew, somewhere deep inside, that we had found the Guardian of Nature.

"Er...hello," I said nervously, for I didn't know if there were any more bears lurking about, "I'm very sorry about all this."

"S'okay," she replied. "Did my father send you? I don't recognize you,"

"I'm afraid not," I answered. I felt uneasy, seeing as I never had much experience with speaking to children. "We came from far up north. Um...My name is Mortanius. What's yours?"

"Lunassah," she said. I saw her bring her hands together and watched as a small jet of water spurted out from between them. "Look, I made a frog!"

"I have never seen that before!" I exclaimed, hoping that I didn't sound too forced. "Well, do you think you could get your bear to let my friend stand? We've come a long way, you see."

"I'm gonna get dressed first," she announced, "You've gotta turn around too."

I obliged and heard the splash as she emerged. Soon she told me she was ready. I saw that she was dressed in a simple brown tunic and sandals that made her look like a little forest imp. She began to braid her hair into two separate tails and smiled at me.

"Hey! Bear! You gotta let him up now!" she yelled. The bear growled once again, but amazingly, relented and shuffled off a ways. Shaking, Moebius swayed to his feet.

"See?" Lunassah frowned, shaking her finger at him, "That's what you get for peeping!"

"I wasn't. Why would I do that? You're much too young," Moebius explained, trying to wipe the drool out of his hair.

"So if I was your age, you'd go ahead and look?" she asked furiously. "That's no better! Hey, bear, go and chew on him!"

"That's not what I said!" he cried as he saw the bear lumbering towards him.

"Lunassah, please!" I begged, "Moebius is a good person. He was only trying to talk to you!"

"Are you sure?" she questioned, "I don't think he is. None of the people from the spooky castle are nice. None of them."

"He's not from the spooky castle and neither am I," I quickly explained, "We're from the Citadel up north. We were sent here to speak to you by the vampire Janos Audron,"

"The crow-man!" she cried gleefully, "Is he coming back to see me like he promised? He gave me a sweet, you know. The bear and I shared it."

"Well, he couldn't come back so he sent us," I explained, "He said that he'd like you to come and see him at his home in the snow,"

"Really? I've never seen snow! I wanna come see him!" she cried and jumped up and down excitedly. "Oh...but my dad wouldn't let me go. He and I have too much to do here."

"That's why we're here! To convince him to let you come with us!" Moebius cried. I turned and saw him once again under the bear, though this time he was being assaulted by a giant pink tongue.

"Ooookay," she said, "Bear, get off of him. Let's go back to my house, Morty. I wanna introduce you to my dad. Are you hungry?" I couldn't help but smile as she unabashedly took my hand in hers and led me out of the cave.


	14. Chapter 13: The Sowing of the Seeds

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Thirteen: The Sowing of the Seeds

Gleefully, Lunassah led us to her home, the village of Meridian. We had only a short walk there so she regaled us with stories as we traversed through the dusty plains. Moebius lagged behind us, wary of the enormous bear that lumbered at her side. He seemed completely drained of the manic, zealous energy that he always possessed and it saddened me to see its absence. I suppose I too was tired because about halfway through the hike, extreme weakness and fatigue hit me and I nearly stumbled.

"Morty, are you alright?" the little girl asked, holding my hand.

"Yes, I'm fine. I am merely tired," I said and tried to smile. She frowned and I could tell that she didn't believe me.

"Well, don't worry. My dad will let you stay the night. And I've made enough food for everyone!" she exclaimed. She turned to face the Timestreamer and hollered, "Bet you're hungry too, huh Moe?"

"He doesn't like it when you call him that," I said, dusting off my hands.

"Ha ha! Moe Moe Moe Moe Moe!" she giggled, dancing around him. "Hey, are you listening, Moe? I'm calling you Moe, Moe!" She poked him in the chest repeatedly but he continued to ignore her. He was staring out at the southwest again. After another second of this, he seemed to return to himself and continued walking without another word.

"You don't gotta be afraid of the spooky castle, you know," Lunassah said stoutly, "It's too far away to do anything,"

"Spooky castle?" Moebius asked, rubbing his temples.

"Yep! It's to the southwest, on a tiny island out in the ocean. Nothing lives in there and the sky is always really strange. Sometimes if you look at it from the shore, you can see the sun setting when it's nowhere near nighttime! Then when you look away, it's normal again," she explained. "Weird, huh? Once I saw someone go in it. He had a pointy hood and a great big scythe."

"What do the villagers say about it?" he asked, his eyes brightening.

"They only say that it's been there since before anyone can remember...and that I shouldn't go near it," she said embarrassedly.

"Let's keep going," he said dismissively. "So you made some food, eh? You can cook already?"

"No, but I make food all the same!" she said proudly, "You'll see when we get home. The farmers of my village can't grow enough food for everyone since it's so dry and dusty here. So I help them!"

I opened my mouth to ask more but my friend threw me a searing glare and I remained silent. I could tell already that he was planning something and subconsciously I held Lunassah's hand more tightly. I felt uneasy and I was ashamed of it. Moebius was my friend! Why was my heart twisting as though in warning? I shook my head and continued onwards. Perhaps I was just being overly sensitive. It had always been that way, ever since I was a child. It is strange how things change...and how some things never do.

We soon came upon the village as the moon was beginning to rise. It lay in a sort of slight valley and was really just a collection of miserable huts arranged haphazardly along a sad excuse for a road. A few youngish people were clustered around an ancient well and they leered menacingly at us as we passed. They all looked so cadaverous and wilted, like the crops in the fields beyond. I watched as a hungry mangy dog came sniffing around the little crowd and was promptly kicked. One of the men said something reprimanding to the one who had done it, though what language he spoke I could not tell. Then he said something to the dog. When the mutt wouldn't respond, he cursed and dragged it by the scruff of its neck into a nearby house. I cringed when I heard the short, agonized yelp of the dog and I shuddered when I heard nothing more.

"Why did they do that?" Lunassah asked quietly beside me. "They shouldn't have to do that. I made enough food for everyone..." I wished she had not seen that. Even more, I wished she hadn't understood. Only starving desperate men trap and eat dogs.

We followed her through the little town until we reached her house, which was just the same as any of the other huts, though there were lights on in this one and I could hear raucous laughter. She smiled sweetly and threw open the door. The stench of stale liquor and acrid smoke met us as we entered. At a table sat three men, one of which was very fat. They seemed to be playing dice, or some form of dice and paid us no heed until Lunassah called out.

"Dad! I'm home!" she announced brightly. The greasy, unwashed fat man turned to her and fury contorted his flabby face. His two friends immediately stopped talking and were silent as he began to bellow.

"Where the hell were you, you little whore?" he demanded with an angry slur.

"I was out in my secret cave and I met my new friends. Can they stay the night?" Lunassah replied, seemingly unaffected by his harsh words.

"Isn't she a bit young for you?" he growled at Moebius. I tensed, fully expecting to see him leap at the man with his characteristic but uncanny speed. Instead, he bowed at the waist and smiled. I knew that smile. It was like the moment of stillness before a coiled viper strikes and it crackled the air around us.

"Good sir, you have me mistaken," he said in cordial tone that was remarkable given the situation. "We are envoys from the Citadel. Master Audron himself summons your daughter. He was here a few months ago inquiring about the same thing. Do you remember, sir?" The man only sneered, as though Moebius' polite demeanor offended him.

"Yeah, I remember," he said, slouching back down in his chair, "An' my answer remains the same. I ain't giving her over, no way, no how."

"You think Carlov here would give away his cash cow, eh you fop?" another at the table leered.

"Fop?" Moebius gave out a short laugh. "I've not heard that one before."

"It means you're a dandy," the man explained, "A sissy. A pansy. A...queer."

"I see I've been wasting your time," Moebius said, not letting the smile leave his face, "Is there a place where travelers may rest? We've come a long way,"

"Bet you have!" the rude man laughed nonsensically.

"But Dad!" Lunassah cried and I was hurt to see tears in her eyes, "They're my friends! Can we at least give them something to eat?"

"And you!" the fat man turned to her, "Bringing in strays! What have I told you? You don't listen, you little brat!" I saw him rear his hand back, as though to strike her.

"Don't you dare," Moebius growled.

"What did you say?" Carlov snarled, "What did you say, queerboy?"

"You heard me, sirrah," he replied, still smiling, "Don't you do it."

He reeled back onto the floor when Carlov's fist collided with his jaw. I was shocked, not so much at the actual punch, but at the fact that it had managed to connect. I had seen Moebius dodge faster things than him. As I stood, goggling in amazement, the other men stood up and proceeded to kick him while he was crumpled on the floor.

"This's what we do to your kind, boy!" one shouted.

"You want some more? Keep trying to get up, then!" the other shouted.

"Alright boys, that's enough," Carlov said amicably. "I think the dandy gets it,"

"What about him?" one pointed at me.

"He's not gonna do shit," Carlov said, "Right?" I nodded and only then realized that Lunassah was still clutching my hand.

"You get away from him!" he shouted, "Get your ass to bed! We've got a busy day tomorrow!"

She looked up at me with a mournful expression and dashed away. I helped Moebius to his feet and without another word, we left that place while Carlov and his cronies laughed at their sordid victory.

When we had hobbled to the street, I tried to wipe away the blood on his face with the hem of my robe. I was ashamed. Why had I just stood there? I should have done something but I was afraid. I, who had seen abominations that would send a regular man screaming in madness, was afraid of being struck by another man.

"You let him hit you," I stated after a time.

"Better me than her," he replied and turned to spit some more blood, "He was determined to hit something tonight. Hopefully he's too tired to get her now. We need rest."

"I don't want to leave her in there," I growled.

"Just for one night more..."

"What do you plan to do? He's not going to give her over," I said.

"Let me handle that. For now, we need to sleep," he said darkly.

We walked towards the largest building, what we assumed was an inn and we entered. Like Lunassah's house, it was lighted and full of pungent acrid smoke. As with many of the taverns we visited, there were many tables arranged on the hardwood floor, occupied by people who were either much too jovial or extremely depressed. There were a few noisy card games going on, and barmaids were kept busy with orders for more. As soon as we entered, everyone in the pub turned and glared at us. Moebius simply strode in and sat at the mostly empty bar. And as usual...I followed him.

"What can I get you two?" the sodden barkeep asked with a dour face.

"Two plates of whatever meat you have," Moebius replied.

"We don't have meat. We don't have much of anything, as you can see," the barkeep smirked.

"You seem to have booze," he said.

"We've always got booze," the barkeep shrugged, "Ain't hard to get. So I'll ask you again. What do you want?"

"A room and two of whatever you have on tap," Moebius relented.

Soon enough, we were served two mugs full of something frothy and foul-smelling. I took none of it but was alarmed to see how easily my friend chugged it down. He noticed my expression and frowned.

"Things seem pretty damn dire around these parts," he said to the barkeep and I noticed how he adopted the tone and dialect of the villagers, "How long has this been going on?"

"For about a year now," the barkeep replied, glad to have someone to listen to his complaints, "It's been pretty bad and now with Carlov being a greedy bastard, it's nigh unbearable,"

"Carlov?" Moebius asked, as though he didn't know.

"Yeah, he's the fat cretin who lives near here. Has a daughter. At least she's his daughter simply because her mother died before he could prove otherwise. Guess he's stuck with her," the barkeep explained and laughed, "He never did much of nothing really...until now. Somehow he's come across a big store of grain, the lucky bastard. He could feed the entire village but what's he do? He charges everyone! O'course, not too many can pay. But there are those that do and now he's living high on the hog while we're starvin'!"

"Sounds downright unfair," Moebius agreed, "You have no idea how he got his hands on all that grain?"

"No idea, that's the hell of it!" the barkeep said and pounded his meaty fist onto the table, "I'd kill to find out how and I don't think I'm the only one who feels the same way,"

"Is that a fact?" Moebius asked. Though he said it nonchalantly, I felt a deep portent to his words and I shivered. There was the viper again...

"You're not going to drink that?" he asked me and I shook my head.

"You should," he sighed, "It'll help you sleep,"

"I think I can sleep just fine," I replied.

"Let's go to sleep then," he relented. He gave my drink to a haggard looking wench, payed our bill and walked up the stairs. The room was small, dingy and unlighted. I sat experimentally on one of the beds and wrinkled my nose at the mustiness. Without any hesitance, Moebius flopped onto the other bed.

"Good night...Morty," he laughed and with that, he fell into a deep, carefree sleep. I took off my boots and lay back, feeling how every joint in my body ached. My stomach still growled fiercely and I could not remember if I had ever been this hungry before. I wondered if I would ever get to sleep with such an ailment and in such conditions...but I did. Soon, wonderful blackness overtook me...

...And when I awoke, everything was in flames...


	15. Chapter 14: The Harvest

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Fourteen: The Harvest

When I had gathered my wits, I realized that what I had perceived as a blaze was actually just a red glow coming from the window. I sprang from bed to see what was happening and peered down at the village common. There was a group of at least thirty men, all brandishing torches and circling Carlov's house. I felt my heart stop. Lunassah was in there! I turned to wake my friend but his bed was long since vacant and I nearly panicked. Granted, Carlov deserved anything that happened to him. One way or another, he had discovered Lunassah's secret power of 'making food'. She had called up the grain from the barren soil with the intention only to help her fellow villagers but her sodden father had sought to make a profit from it. The villagers were already at the end of their leash when we arrived...they had only required a catalyst.

"Moebius, you fool!" I muttered, "Not like this..."

I threw on my boots and flew down the stairs and out of the inn. It was impossible...idiotic... he wouldn't do such a ghastly thing as turn the village against Lunassah's father. I did not care if Carlov were to die, but there was too great of a risk of her getting killed as well. I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to her! I reached the mob and frantically demanded from one the location of Moebius. He shoved me away and resumed his mad cry along with the rest of them. They were getting closer and closer to the house and a few were beating on the door.

"Open up, Carlov! We know you're in there!" one shouted.

"We hear there's plenty enough to share!" another cried.

"You got another minute and then we're burning your damn house down. If we can't eat, neither can you!" another demanded.

"You can't do this! There's a little girl in there!" I screamed as loud as I could, but no one paid me any attention. I tried to pull one man aside but I was thrown to the ground. I felt an iron grip around my wrist and I was pulled to my feet and dragged behind a nearby house. It was Moebius and he signaled me to be quiet.

"What have you done?" I screamed, clutching the collar of his cloak. "What do you hope to achieve here? Lunassah's in danger! These people are ready to kill!"

"I know," was all he said.

"This is wrong!" I shouted.

"I know," he said again.

"Then why have you done this? I know it was you who rallied them!" I demanded.

"I did what you could not bear to do, Mortanius," he explained, "It was going to take a little push to get the Druid to join us. Now she will see that she needs to come with us in order to master her dangerous power. Now there will be no father to pine after, as wretched as he may be. Now there will be no guilt in your heart for what needed to be done. Everything will have worked out,"

"What are you saying, Moebius?" I cried.

"I'm saying I'm taking this burden on myself so you don't have to," he said solemnly, "Because you are my very dear friend and I could not stand to see you take on such a great sin. Don't you understand? I'm trying to save the cohesion of your pretty soul,"

"You are mad," I said. I released my hold and took a step away from him. He really believed that this was the only way? To manipulate the village to kill her father? He really believed that he was sparing me from the blame? I looked at him closely and could see that was true. His face was placid with the suffering of a saint and I could see that his eyes had finally become like mine, devoid of pupils and casting a silvery sheen. They reflected back at me like a nocturnal beast's and he smiled at me with all the serenity in the world.

"She will love you for this one day," he said and pointed to the roof of Carlov's house. I turned and saw that Lunassah had managed to clamber onto the highest point of the roof and was trying her best to talk to the angry, torch-bearing mob. Her father was still nowhere to be seen.

"I'll make plenty, I promise! I won't charge you either! Just calm down everyone!" she cried in futility. There was a crash as they kicked in the flimsy door and a stream of villagers poured into the little house. Soon, they had dragged out the corpulent form of Carlov, whether alive or dead I could not tell.

"Now for the witch!" I heard one of the villagers bellow and I knew that time was short. Time seemed to slow as I walked to the surrounded house. A complete stillness overtook me, cold and calm, and with all confidence I recited the ascending node. A chill breeze swept through the village and the torches flickered and snuffed out, according to my will. With grim satisfaction, I watched the misty forms take shape out of the darkness and with a crack of doom they completely manifested. Though they looked composed of shadowy mists they had all the substance as anything else and they tore through the crowd, pulling them away from the house and slashing at them when they ran too close to the doorway. At the wraiths' touch, many villagers fainted but enough allowed themselves to be herded away from the house. In no time at all, my creatures had parted the mob and what was once a dangerous and volatile thing was now cowed and frightened, watching me with sheep's eyes.

Wordlessly, I went into the house. I saw the blood covering the floor but paid it no mind. I found the ladder Lunassah used to gain access to the roof and climbed it.

"Lunassah," I said. She turned to me, her eyes wide with wonder. Wonder, bless her, and not fear. "Will you come with us? If you stay here, they'll hurt you,"

"Why?" she asked. I sighed and looked up at the sliver of a moon, as though for inspiration.

"I don't know," I answered after too long a time. She nodded and slipped her hand into mine. We descended to the ground floor and came out the way I had entered. The wraiths herding the crowd trembled as I walked by and I commanded them to dissipate. Even without their restraints, the villagers made no move to attack us. They only watched in mute fear as we left that place. I was dimly aware that Moebius was following us, but I did not care. Together we headed back out into the dusty wilderness, to the secret cave where we first met Lunassah. That was where we would rest and figure out a way home.

Soon enough, we arrived, and in it's silent shadowy depths I lay down. I didn't care that it was solid stone. I was too tired to protest. Lunassah said a few words that I didn't understand and those strange glowing fireflies began to twinkle in the air, giving off a calm blue light.

"Willywisps," she said and smiled.

"So you're going to come with us?" Moebius asked, trying to get one of the things to land on his finger.

"Yeah," she replied, "I don't know what happened but I don't want to go back home."

"You know why they did all that? Why they tried to hurt you?" Moebius asked. I shut my eyes more tightly, as though that would help to blot out his voice.

"No."

"Because they are farmers," Moebius explained, "Farmers are cowardly, untrustworthy and stupid. They say that they suffer and starve, yet they keep secret farms in the canyons. They hide much of their crops when it comes to be tax time and say they have hardly enough to give. They rob and kill travelers when they can get away with it. They lie and cheat and steal. Farmers are superstitious, craven, foolish and above all, they are weak,"

"But I'm a farmer! How can you say such a thing?" I heard Lunassah cry. Anger spiked in me and I was about to silence him for the night when he continued.

"Listen, child," Moebius said, "They are like that because of the highborn. The noble vampires who demand so much. They take the crops and money that the farmers work so hard to earn. They take their children as slaves and their daughters as concubines and food. They take and take and take...and when the farmers resist, they burn the village and kill them. That is why. It's a cruel cycle, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Lunassah said, "Why can't they both just stop being mean?"

"That's what we're trying to accomplish," Moebius replied. Mercifully, he became silent and I think he fell asleep. I tossed and turned, tired beyond all imagining but I could not rest. The Timestreamer's words kept buzzing in my head like pesty flies. I grew angry at what he had caused tonight and how he was already trying to fill the Druid's head with his propaganda.

"Mortanius?" I heard Lunassah whisper.

"Hmm?"

"We're gonna go see the crow-man tomorrow?"

"Janos? Yes, but it will be a long trip," I replied.

"Oh, okay. Your monsters were real neat," she muttered and I believe she fell asleep. After a time, I finally managed to doze off...and thankfully I did not dream.


	16. Chapter 15: Blight

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Fifteen: Blight

The journey home was long and tiring, though I was glad that Moebius did not try to speak of his crusade again. Along the way, I explained to Lunassah about the Pillars, about the Circle of Nine and about our mutual duty. She only listened, wide eyed, as I retold all the lore and poems and cycles that I had read as a child. She seemed to take the news of her destiny well, though she seemed more excited at the prospect of seeing snow more than at her new and exalted position. Along the way, she managed to coax our free and frightened horses back to us so we were able to ride the rest of the way home.

A year passed. Life seemed to return to normal. Lunassah was enrolled in the sorcery classes and I was relieved to learn that she was accepted more graciously than I had. She was very well liked amongst her peers and life in the Citadel seemed happy for her. As for Moebius, all I knew was that he had retreated deeper into his esoteric research of OZ. I did not see him again until after I graduated from the Citadel's academy. Though I had missed many classes, I caught up and soon passed with aplomb; I was now a full fledged sorcerer. I learned that though I was the Guardian of Death, there were other necromancers in the land. Through a placement program, I took up a position in a guild that was based in Nactholm and I was excited at the opportunity to practice my unique art amongst like-minded individuals.

On the night of my leave, Moebius came to me to see me off on my journey. I was not pleased at the sight of him; I had not forgiven him for his vile deed in Meridian. He seemed to understand and did not address me as some chum of his. He kept his distance and remained tolerably polite. I noticed that in the past year, I had grown much for I was now taller than him by about two inches. I also noticed that though his eyes had changed, due to the Pillar's influence, they were not quite like mine. They were milky white and clouded by cataracts, and he seemed always to be looking beyond into some faraway place. His hair, which had been very light to begin with, was now streaked with pure white and he no longer had any eyebrows. The changes had given him an air of eccentric mysticism and I found myself drawn to his voice as he made idle talk with me.

"So you're going..." he stated.

"Yes," I said curtly.

"I hope you'll be happy," he said vaguely.

"I will."

"Lunassah is sad that you're going," he reported. He adjusted the awkwardly long bundle on his back and took up a large, bulky bag.

"I promised her that I'd visit soon," I replied, "What is all that?"

"I'm leaving too," he answered dreamily.

"You're not coming with me," I said quickly.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Moebius smiled and his eyes stared into some point between my face and the fifth dimension, "I'm going on a journey to see what I can do."

"What are you talking about?"

"I am a Guardian, born with more power and influence than most people. I want to use it to achieve something for the good of Nosgoth."

"Somehow I doubt that," I growled, "if that long bundle is what I think it is."

"I see you've learned derision," he sighed. "I will not ask you to forgive me. If you really need something to hate that badly, then I will go ahead and gladly be that subject. We will meet again and maybe then you'll have learned a little compassion." With that, he disappeared into the night with a swirling of arcane wind, robbing me of the final word.

I found Nactholm to be a dreary little town, full of dreary superstitious people. It was built in the middle of a wretched moor so the days were eternally grey and misty. The ground was always so damp, it was nearly impossible to keep my boots or the hem of my robes free of muck. The town was home to mostly farmers, cutthroats, whores and merchants and I could not fathom why a guild of necromancers would want to set up their location here.

My associates were kind and accommodating enough, though they all seemed to be of the same intense, eccentric cast. They were devoted to their work, that much could be said. Each one seemed to revel in their morbidity and I found it tiring to speak with any of them for too long of a time. They all seemed to want to outdo each other in how creepy they could be and when I found Brother Archimor eating his lunch in the autopsy theatre, I had to chastise him. He seemed disappointed, not at my harsh words, but at my lack of appreciation.

I found that I had a natural knack for any assignment given to me, though not to my surprise. Where the others needed rare and esoteric components and a carefully drawn out ritual circle to summon up a mere zombie, I only needed my will. They were thankfully impressed, rather than jealous and I soon rose in rank and made many close associates, despite my young age. At last I was home, as macabre and odd as it may be.

The guild house was located across the street from the town brothel and I sneered every time I passed by it, though I learned that many of the guild members frequented the place. I could not blame them. The mere title of necromancer was enough to make any woman shudder. Love could only be bought, I supposed, when your office was a morgue. I swore that I would not stoop to such measures, though I was still painfully ignorant of women. Of course, I wanted to remedy the situation but I had no idea how to go about it and besides...there was always work to be done. Embalming, dissecting, reanimating, banishing of lingering spirits, condensing to essential salts...the list went on, and the months flew by without event. Soon enough, I was eighteen years old and unable to answer as to where the time went.

"Morty! Come on! We're going to the Red Rose! You should come too!" Loriath said to me as I was bent over my newest subject. I had been charged with extracting a certain bit of information from the cadaver and necroscopy required physical contact in order to do such a thing. Needless to say, I was currently elbow deep in the investigation.

"I'm in no mood," I said and ignored the spirit's shattering scream of anguish as I tore the knowledge from its body's cooling brain.

"Just for a drink," Loriath insisted, "Getting out of here would do you some good. You're as pale as a sheet, you know."

"I do know," I sighed. I stood up to my full height and stretched, wincing at the crack my back made. "Perhaps you're right. Just for a drink."

"Great! And hey, maybe you'll get lucky and Jeanie will be there. She always gives discounts to first time clients." Loriath suggested, laughing as I sighed.

As I went through the doors of the Red Rose brothel, I fervently hoped that no one would see me, though Loriath, Archimor and the others didn't seem too concerned. The interior was cleaner than I expected, with plush red rugs and golden chandeliers hanging from the plastered ceiling. Almost immediately, a gaggle of girls swarmed us, cooing and giggling over what was sure to be paying customers.

"Archy! I've missed you!" one with impossibly full lips cried.

"Loriath! How's my little booger-bear?" another asked.

"Ooh! Who's your handsome young friend?" a third inquired and I was ashamed to feel the blood running to my face.

"Careful, Jeanie or he'll faint!" Loriath said with a snort.

"We're just here for a drink, girls," Archimor stated and a general sigh came from the gaggle.

"Speak for yourself," Loriath said.

A serving girl led us to a chamber where the only light came from candles placed on the small round tables. Here, like everywhere in the place, there were heavy crimson curtains draped over the windows to block out the sun and to render the patron unable to tell the time. She asked us what we wanted with dusky downcast eyes and she managed to scamper away and still retain her demure cast. I found myself looking at her as she walked away and I had to admit, she was very pretty. Her long red hair flowed down her back like silken waves and I couldn't help but notice how slender and shapely she was.

"She must be new. Never seen her before," Loriath said, "Do you like her? You get dibs, you know."

"Ah...no...that's quite alright." I stammered, aware that my face must be as red as those damn curtains.

"Oh, stop being like that!" Archimor said, "You're acting like you're committing some sort of a crime here. You're not! Those poor, hardworking girls need the money and hell...we need the company. Wouldn't you rather buy her time than have some drunken brute buy it? You're probably doing her a favor!"

"Do you know a man named Moebius?" I asked suddenly, smirking. "He could twist any situation in order to justify it to himself. You'd have liked him."

"Maybe," he replied and eagerly slurped down the contents of his mug as soon as the serving girl gave it to him. As she came closer, I summoned up enough courage to look into her eyes. She was looking right at me, with an expression of gentle confusion. I gulped, trying to think of something, anything to say.

"Mortanius?" she finally asked. I could have fallen down, I was so surprised.

"Um...um...yes?" I managed to say.

"You don't recognize me?" she said with a hint of disappointment.

"Ah...ah...that is to say..." I stammered.

"It's me, Avelice," she finished. I could only stare in shock. The Avelice I remembered was pretty, I suppose, but she had horrible eczema covering her entire body. The girl in front of me now was utterly flawless.

"It's been so long since I last saw you!" she said happily, "I left the Citadel right after graduation. I see you've joined the necromancy guild here. Good for you."

"But what about you? Why are you working here?" I asked as she sat down beside me.

"I was never that good of a sorceress. Sure, I have a little talent, but it's mostly cantrips and all that. I just wasn't good enough to get enlisted in a guild or to join some army in need of mages," she said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

"You just haven't found your niche is all," I said, "You must be so happy to be rid of your...problem. I know how badly you were teased at school,"

"I remember when you rescued me," she said and everyone leaned in closer to listen. "Mortanius here stood up to the girls who kept me around as a friend but would always make fun of me. After a while, I grew numb to what they would do and say. They would even call me 'leper' because I had eczema, and I wouldn't even care."

"I can't imagine a pretty girl like you having such a terrible condition," Loriath stated.

"But I did. And using his necromancy, Mortanius scared them all away and made me realize that I should not have to tolerate that kind of treatment. I never got a chance to thank you," she said.

"Shortly after graduation, I met a talented wizard who cured me of my condition but he charged me a lot of money. I'm still paying him back. That's why I'm here."

"How much do you need?" I asked quickly.

"I will take care of my own problem," she said sternly, and then grinned, "I just never imagined that you were the kind to come to a place like this. I always thought you were too shy."

"I...I...this is my first time here and I was just getting a drink and..." I stammered. She only laughed and smiled in a way that made me even more ashamed.

"I understand," she said.

"You do?" I sighed. Suddenly I was filled with a burning ambition and before it faded, I was determined to make my chance. "Let's get out of here. I know of a good eating house not too far from here and..."

"Mortanius...I'm still on duty," she said. I gave her a handful of coins before she could get too far away.

"And now I'm a customer," I said and ignored the cheers and applause from the other two necromancers. Avelice only blushed, took my hand and led me to a back room as lavishly and gaudily furnished as the rest of the place. As soon as the door was closed, her lips were pressed against mine. All thought went out of my head as I embraced her. She smelled of flowers...

Before I knew it, we had managed to reach the bed...

Her skin was warm against mine...

Her hair tickled my face as she straddled my hips...

Suddenly, a scream pierced the heady stillness and I looked around to see what was happening.

"Do not worry. That is...ah...the special room," she explained, "For discriminating customers,"

"I see," I replied, suppressing a laugh, "Avelice, this was not my intention."

"What?"

"I only gave you money because you needed it. I really don't expect you to do anything," I said.

"I just wanted to talk to you more, but in such a way that you wouldn't get in trouble by your employer. I believe I forgot that for a while,"

"Mortanius...you're sweet. You realize though, that I never was able to thank you for what you did so long ago," she sighed.

"You just did, Avelice. Believe me, I want you more than anything right now...but not here. Not like this," I tried to explain. She kissed me again, and all attempts at resisting vanished.

It felt like an eternity...it felt like a second...I had no idea how much time had passed and I didn't care. She was mine and I was hers...at least for this night.

And when I awoke, she was gone.


	17. Chapter 16: The Rot Sets In

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Sixteen: The Rot Sets In

When I awoke, it was still dark out and I surmised that only a few hours had passed. I could see no sign of Avelice and I wanted to get out of bed to look for her, but I ached horribly and was loathe to move. She might be with another customer but I put this thought out of my mind as quickly as I could. As I lurched out of bed, a wave of nausea hit me and I noticed that I was shaking like I had some kind of a fever. I felt numb from cold, I was dizzy and my throat was painfully dry. I wondered if this happened to everyone in my situation. Somehow, I doubted it.

I gathered up my clothes, dressed and went downstairs to see if perhaps I could say goodbye to Avelice before I went back to the guild house. As I entered the main floor hallway I knew that something was wrong. I could hear two women arguing viciously. As I continued listening, I realized that one of them was actually Avelice. Puzzled, I crept to the closed door to hear better.

"Madam," I heard her growl, "I tire of doing this! We should be free to do whatever we want, wherever we want! What do we need with money? This is ridiculous!"

"Avelice, you know that it isn't that easy. You're still young and haven't adjusted to the changes. You're still preoccupied with your own power," the older sounding woman said calmly, "You must obey me along with your new sisters. Soon, Nactholm will become a more...habitable place for us. Did you take care of the body?"

"Not yet, Madam," Avelice said softly. "I thought I'd be sad...but I'm not."

"You left that life behind. It is good that you do not mourn for him or for your useless sentiments. You're maturing quickly. That is why I chose you," the Madam said. "That is why our master chose you too. Now go. Go and sleep. It is nearly dawn. I will take care of the leftovers."

Suddenly, the door opened and Avelice ran into me. I went to help her recover her balance but the look on her face prevented me from touching her. Her pretty features were twisted up in shock and fear...and of something far more unsettling that I couldn't quite identify. Before I could figure it out, she had returned to herself and sighed happily.

"Mortanius, you shouldn't be here. We're about to close," she said pleasantly.

"I wanted to see you before I left," I said dumbly.

"What is going on here?" the Madam asked, stepping out into the corridor, "Who is this?"

"Madam, this is Mortanius," Avelice said and I could barely detect the undercurrent of alarm in her voice, "He's my best customer,"

"I see," she said. She took a step towards me and I was suddenly filled with the confusing impulse to get closer to her or to run far far away. Though she was older than me, she was undeniably alluring and her dark eyes dazzled me.

"Well, you are more than welcome to return to the Red Rose," she said, and her voice was like silk, "Be sure to tell all of your friends about us." I nodded stupidly and returned to Avelice.

"I want to see you again," I proclaimed, "Away from this place,"

"Very well," she said quickly, "Tomorrow night, then. Meet me here."

"Where will we go?" I asked.

"Does it matter?" she sighed and ever so gently pushed me towards the door. She gave me the briefest of kisses before she closed the door behind me. I stood for a moment, reeling from my strange sickness and of the wonderful, but odd events. I was concerned, however, for the talk of 'disposing the body'. Were there rude and uncooperative customers hassling some of the girls? Did they take measures into their own hands? Honestly, I could not blame them if they did. I wanted even more to help Avelice repay her debt, in order to get her out of that place. I did not, for a moment, care about what she had done during her time of employment in the Red Rose. Times were hard in Nosgoth, and for a woman, they were even more difficult. I only knew that it was my duty to help her.

As I approached the guild house, a young man in a simple tunic bearing a embroidered winged sigil approached me and asked if I could spare a few coins for the Order of the Serafan. He was so honest-faced and undemanding that I slipped a few pieces into his hand. He told me that the Order was dedicated to helping impoverished people and giving them hope and a purpose in life. They also bought slaves and gave them their freedom and with the money I gave him, they were going to be able to free one more. He thanked me again and as I walked across the street, I was glad I had helped the lad.

When I reached the guild house, I hoped that everyone was asleep by this time. I was in no mood for any of their teasing. My hopes were not to be realized, because when I opened the door I saw that everyone had gathered in the common room to stand and applaud me. I grumbled something to them all, shoved a few aside and headed for my room.

"Congratulations, Morty! You are now a man!" Archimor said proudly. He laughed and then goggled at me, as though I had a scary bug on my front.

"What?" I asked angrily.

"You must've had one hell of a time!" he said. "Go look in the mirror. She must've done a number on you. I'm so jealous."

I managed to reach my room without any further ridicule. As I sat on my tiny bed, I realized how exhausted I was. My legs were weak, my throat was throbbing and my head throbbed like I drank too much. I wasn't sure if this was normal but I was certainly not going to ask them about it.

I shakily got to my feet and looked at myself in the mirror and gasped. I was pale, even more than usual, and there were dark bags under my eyes. I gulped and noticed how painful the act was. I lifted my chin and examined my neck. There was a huge red and black mark on it and I knew that this was what Loriath called a 'hickey'. Though it looked awful, it was nothing to worry about and when my head began to swim, I lay down and slept like never before.

"Mortanius! You've got a client!" a voice called out, ripping me from the peace of sleep.

"No..." I mumbled.

"You have to! She requested you specifically!" he pleaded.

"Tell her I died," I muttered.

"That excuse doesn't exactly work here in this kind of place," he said.

"I don't want to..."

"You're the best we have and she's paying a lot of money," he cried. I sighed and knew that I had no choice in the matter. When it came to matters of money, the guild would do anything. I crawled out of bed and lurched to the door to start my day.

"What's going on again?" I yawned, wincing as the light hit my eyes. Archimor shoved a hunk of dry bread into my face and put a cup of water in my hand.

"Eat up! You'll need your strength for this one," he said, "And change your clothes. The baroness of the province is here to get your services."

"What does she want?" I asked with a full mouth.

"It seems her son went missing a few days ago. He traveled all the way from their home in Ziegsturhl. His body was found halfway sunk in one of the moors here. There was no sign of the cause of death. No bruises, no cuts; he didn't even drown. What his mother the Baroness wants to know is what happened to make him dead."

"She wants me to perform a necroscopy on him..." I said, "She does realize that the body will have to be dissected?"

"Er...you're going to have to explain that one to her, Morty," he said, blanching. I decided not to investigate his reticence further. I changed my clothes, wolfed down the rest of my imposing breakfast and tried the best I could to hide my hickey. Luckily for me, the collar of my robe was very high and allowed for some concealment. I followed Archimor down the hallway to the receiving room and noticed how eager he seemed to slink away. I grew wary of what was behind the door.

"Are you Mortanius the Necromancer?" a large woman blustered at the cowering Archimor. It was all I could do to keep from staring. I had never seen someone so enormous...or covered in so much gaudy violet silk. Her violently orange hair was curled into a tight bun on her round head and her small eyes blinked deep in their sockets. She adjusted the massive fur mantle around her meaty shoulders and looked expectantly at me, along with her two unctuous, preening servants.

"Yes, I am," I finally replied and inwardly I cursed my sex-addled brain, "What do you require?"

"A day ago, my son, my dearest dearest son was found dead in one of the putrid moors around here. No one can figure out how he died. Normally, I do not traffic with people such as yourself but this is family," she said, managing to sound sorrowful and businesslike all at once.

"Then you're requesting a necroscopy," I said, ignoring her insult.

"Will that tell me what happened?" she asked.

"Rather, it will tell me," I said, "and I will tell you,"

"How do I know you're just not making up some sort of a story? I'm afraid it's difficult to trust strangers who bugger with the dead," one of her officious servants asked.

"In this business, it does not do to have too much of an imagination," I said stonily. "Clearly, you are not in need of our unique services. Good day to you, Madam."

"Wait! Wait, I say!" she cried as I turned to leave, "What does this necro...whatever entail?"

"I will have to cut him open and muck around in his organs," I said with a perfectly straight face, "and hopefully his wailing spirit will tell me what I want to know,"

"How dare you speak to our Lady in such a gruesome fashion!" one of the pompous servants wailed dramatically.

"You will keep your voice low and civil with me," I said with the same placid demeanor, "After all, you chose to come to me,"

"And is there a guarantee that the results will be entirely confidential?" she asked, ignoring her sobbing servant. This question surprised me, though I did not show it.

"Of course," I replied.

"Then we will deliver the body in an hour and I expect prompt results," she said, "Good day to you," With that, she waltzed out of the receiving room, followed by her scowling servants. After she had gotten a safe distance outside, Archimor began to laugh.

"That's what I like about you, Morty! You don't let anyone talk down to you, no matter who they are," he gleamed.

"Call for me in an hour. I'm going to sleep," I said.

"Are you feeling alright? You look like hell." he stated. I ignored him and stumbled to my room, where I slept fitfully for a brief period...

...And an hour later, I found myself once again rummaging through the parts of a person that should never see daylight. Before I made the initial incision, I examined the body and found what I had been told was true. There was no apparent sign of the cause of death. No bruises to tell of a struggle, no incisions or lacerations...the body wasn't even bloated so I knew he had not drowned in the moor. Someone must have placed him there.

Using a very cruel-looking device, I snapped the sternum and proceeded to spread apart the ribs. I ignored the crackling and popping noises and decided that perhaps I should become a vegetarian. With the body laid open before me, I could see what had killed the baroness' son. The heart hung like an empty bag between the withered lungs. I tried to follow the path of some of the major arteries and vessels but found that it was difficult, due to the fact that they were so damaged and collapsed that I could barely see them. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, I removed my gloves and felt around in the sickeningly cool intestines. It only took a moment of concentration and soon I began to feel sensations that had no place in this time or situation. I closed my eyes to better focus...

...a fight with the old bat...storming out of the house...a signpost saying 'Nactholm'...

the familiar sound of hoofbeats and the heavy breath of a tired horse...eagerness...anticipation...the Red Rose...the heady scent of incense and women...

I needed clarity, so leaving one hand on the gall bladder, I moved the other to the left eye. I opened the lids and began to gently prod at the slimy orb. Yes...now I could see it...

...everyone was so glad to see me. I was a regular so everyone knew my face and name. Nevermind that Mother didn't want me here. I was a grown man and I could make my own decisions. I spied a pretty girl that I had not seen before and knew she would be the one for tonight...she said her name was Clara...

(But that's Avelice!)

I saw some poor beggar enter the place...some nerve he had...he saw my clothes so he knew I was a noble...the hell if I was giving him any money...Look, boy, I don't care if you're part of an organization that's trying to help the poor...Serafan? What a stupid name...I kicked him and he scampered away...and Clara laughed with me as I downed the last of my ale. I didn't care that I felt groggy. I had come here for a reason. I took the girl and we went upstairs...

(the same room we were in...no, I mustn't be angry)

...right before we got down to it, there was a knock at the door. Before I could answer it, the door swung open and in strode three of the most gorgeous women I had ever seen. One of them was older, I could tell, but the way she moved...they were all on me at once and Clara left the room with a pout. Isn't there enough for her too?

...a sudden pain in my calf...what are you doing, you crazy bitch? I'm not into that! Didn't you hear me? Ow! Get the hell off of me!

...too strong to be a woman...

...like daggers in my throat...

Help! Help me!

I can't breathe!

Getting dizzy...

...help...

...mother...

With an effort, I managed to tear myself away from the dead man's perspective. I reeled from the vision and had to sit down to keep from falling. It couldn't be! It was impossible...idiotic! There were vampires working in the brothel! It was the job of the human girls like Avelice to lure in unsuspecting males. When they were alone in a secluded room, the vampires would come in and feast on the helpless man. That painful scream last night...that had been no 'discriminating customer'! That had been the cry of a dying man! I realized that was why she looked so surprised at me when I ran into her afterwards. She had thought that I was dead! When I fell asleep, she sent in her vampiric sisters to drink my blood. Now I understood why I had felt so horrible afterwards. I knew how I had survived. My near-dead body must have performed fleshcrafting of its own volition. I knew that tonight she would try to finish the job. She would appear to be alone, but the vampires would be lurking nearby.

I knew that I would go and meet her tonight. It was my duty to try and stop the vampires from killing anyone else. It was my duty to try and convince Avelice to come with me, to stop this evil line of work. Desperation was making her do this but I had to show her that it was not the only way!

I thought I was ready.

I was a fool.


	18. Chapter 17: Thwarting Big Brother

Rigor Mortis

Chapter Seventeen: To Thwart Big Brother

It was a dark, moonless night as I stood on one of the many bridges in town. The mist rose from the surrounding moors and gave a chilling eerie feel to the whole place. I shivered inside my cloak but I was determined to see this through. The night so far had been pleasant. I had taken Avelice to a little eating house and now we were going for a walk around the town. The whole time she seemed like her usual pleasant self but I could still tell that she was nervous about something. After all, she hardly touched her food.

"Avelice, are you happy?" I asked suddenly, gripping the railing of the bridge.

"No. At least I'm doing something to get my on the path of being happy, though. I've saved up a lot of money," she replied and sidled up next to me.

"I told you that I'd pay your debt," I said. She only turned away from me and sighed.

"Why do you have to ruin such a nice evening with that kind of talk. This is a treat. Most of my clients don't bother to 'take me out'." she scowled.

"I'm not your client," I said.

"Your money is jingling in my coin purse. So, yes, you are," she replied.

"If I was really your client, you'd send your sisters to feed off of my blood, like you did with that nobleman from Ziegsturhl," I stated.

There was a long silence, only pierced by the lonely howling of a wolf.

"So you know..." she said at last.

"I know that you're bait to lure in the men so that the vampires in the Red Rose can drink their blood," I said, "I saw when I was performing a necroscopy on the boy,"

"You were always talented," she sighed, "but you still know nothing."

"I want to get you away from there. The Red Rose is not your only option. You can come with me," I offered desperately. Avelice only laughed cruelly and nuzzled into my neck.

"Let's stop this," she said, "We should enjoy this as long as we can,"

I shoved her away and I thought I heard a hiss come from her as she sneered at me.

"You thought those vampires killed me that night," I scowled, "And the same ones are here to finish the job now."

"You're wrong!" she cried and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. "I didn't want them to kill you! It was the Madam's orders afterwards. I tried to convince her, but I couldn't. I can't go with you, Mortanius! It's too late for me,"

"It's never too late," I said.

"Tell me, do you go around saving every damsel in distress?" she asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you know that I was saved by a much more powerful man than you? One who was intrigued by the fact that I was at once blighted and beautiful? He was the one who cured me, not some silly wizard," Avelice said, and I saw a beastly gleam in her eyes, "You're sweet, Mortanius, but I can't disobey the Madam. I wish it could be different for us."

She lunged at me, faster than I could see and a there was a sharp pain as she sank her fangs into my throat. With inhuman strength she held me down and sucked greedily at the wound. Though the pain was not great, I could not move because of it. I had been told long ago that most vampires had some kind of paralyzing agent in their saliva to prevent their prey from escaping and I supposed this was what was being released into my veins. I felt my consciousness waver and darkness began to encroach on my vision.

Suddenly, she reeled as though she had been hit by something. She crouched over me now, with my blood dripping from her snarling mouth, though she seemed completely disinterested in me now. Wild fear shone in her glinting eyes and she stammered stupidly.

"My sisters! Madam! No!" she cried, looking back at the Red Rose. Though I could still not move, I could speak and with great haste, I recited the ascending node. Shadowy figures formed out of the night, their eyes glowing with ghastly flame. Though they did not speak, they were asking me what I wanted them to do. I could feel them straining, eager for violence.

She still stared back at the brothel, with tears now streaming down her face. She did not notice the wraiths silently gathering behind her as she began to wail. Regaining my strength, I climbed to my feet and watched them seize her with their insubstantial, but undeniably strong claws. She struggled only briefly before she knew she could not escape. Held in midair by nothing but a shadow, she turned her wrathful gaze upon me.

"You did this! You killed my sisters! You murdered Madam!" she accused.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said and proceeded to fleshcraft my wound. She watched in fascination as the skin spread over the gash. I stepped closer to her, silently willing the wraiths to merely hold her. I could feel their agitation, but they had no choice in the matter.

"I should kill you for what you've done," I said stonily, "but I won't. I believe there is something still good inside of you. You are simply bound by your instinct and your urges. I will teach you another way."

"All I ever needed to know was taught to me by Vorador!" she said, spitting in my face. "What do you mean to do? Reform me? Domesticate me? Go to hell, Mortanius!" She then continued to lament for her fallen sisters and I decided that I should investigate. Something undoubtedly was happening at the Red Rose. I commanded the wraiths to hold her until I returned.

On my way there, I ran into a group of terrified girls fleeing from the direction of the brothel. Most were too stupid with fear to answer me but one told me what was happening. Apparently, the brothel was under attack from some group of men, perhaps raiders. I told them to go to the necromancers' guild house to be safe. Saying brief thanks, they scampered away into the night. When I arrived, I saw that the girl's words were true. The doors to the Red Rose had been ripped off of their hinges and all of the front windows had been smashed. Cautiously, I stepped beyond the threshold and peered into the receiving room. The steely sound of clashing weapons came from upstairs and I noticed a group of huddling, naked men in one corner. Loriath was among them.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

"Some men in armor just suddenly stormed the place! They broke into the rooms and demanded that everyone get out. B...but some of the girls...they...murdered them!" Loriath said, almost out of his mind with panic.

"Take this group and go to the guild house. I sent the survivors there. Watch over them," I ordered. He nodded dumbly and with the others, he left that place. I climbed the stairs, afraid of what I might find. Three women were lying on the floor, their blood seeping into the plush red carpet. I saw that the crude spears that had been the instruments of their deaths had been left in their chests. I could tell that they were...or had been...vampires. I ran past them, heading towards the sound of the battle. I dashed into an open room. Nothing seemed out of place, except that the bed was unmade and there was a great pool of blood on the floor. The giant armoire had been pulled away from the wall and I could see that there was a passage that led to a secret room which was where the fighting was occurring. I still was not certain as to why I felt I had to go see this. I had no desire to save the vampires, after all, I pondered as I vaulted down the stairs.

Here was much different than the rest of the brothel. Here it was nothing but cold stone and steel. Men, naked and pale, were shackled to the wall, some dead...others I could not tell. All of them suffered cruel, puckered wounds on every surface of their bodies. Some called out to me and some just looked on with lifeless glassy eyes. Blood stained every cobblestone and lent a rank smell to the dungeon. I had happened upon the pantry.

"Die monster!" a voice called out and I saw in the doorway a man wearing pristine white armor, so immaculate compared with the rest of the place. He held a massive sword and pointed it right at me.

I stared at him, unafraid and understanding that, given my odd appearance, he must have thought I was a vampire.

"No, George!" a younger voice called out, and I saw the honest-faced youth that I had given money earlier this morning. He still had the same amiable face, but it was covered in blood and the pike he bore was no cleaner. "He's all right! He gave us some money! He's a necromancer, I think."

"Then you can help us rid this place of the infestation," George said affably, "We got most of 'em, but there are a few in the back room causing trouble."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Don't you remember, sir?" the youth asked.

A pained cry roused me out of my confusion and I continued down the blood-smeared corridor. In a similar room stood the Madam, with the remains of her brood trembling behind her. On the floor was a wounded man, his throat torn out.

"You'll pay for that, you succubus!" one armor-clad fighter cried.

"What will you do?" the Madam said coolly, "Kill us? Do it. Do it and all the wrath of hell will come upon you."

"Is that so?" another replied and thrusted his sword at her. She deftly moved to the side and caught him in the face with her now-elongated claws. He reeled back, screaming.

"Does anyone else care to lose an eye before I die?" she asked. She turned her smouldering gaze to me and smiled. "Ah...Avelice's favorite customer."

Suddenly, they all leapt without warning. To my amazement, the Madam grew black and hairy and before I knew it, she had become a wolf. The other vampires sprang at the armed men and there was a cacophony of cries and clashing metal. The Madam was on me and her vicious jaws had closed in on my feebly defending arm. All her weight was pressed on me and I could not get her thrashing form off of me. I was jerked with a beastly ferocity and my own blood sprayed madly. I felt no pain...only the faint feeling of something being torn from me...I could still hear the fighting...the snarling...there was a violet glow...and then...

...then all was black.

I awoke to find myself in a cot, in a room full of cots like mine. Only a few flickering candles served to light the room and I saw that there were a few men sleeping. All were bandaged in some fashion. It was a very spartan place, but it was warm and I was safe. I looked at my arm, trying not to recollect the events of the night. It was numb and heavily bandaged. I began to unravel the bindings, in order to heal myself more efficiently when a jovial voice called out to me.

"I told you I should teach you how to fight!" it laughed, "What a rough night for you!"

That was how, after a full year, I reunited with Moebius the Timestreamer.


End file.
